The Maid's Dilemma
by scattered21
Summary: What would you do if you found Jasper digging through the garbage bin where you worked? And if you were Edward? Could you save him? Contemporary All-Human/Angst/M-M Romance with Language
1. Chapter 1

_**Author****'****s ****note:** This story won't have many chapters—more novella than novel. I'm not too sure about an HEA, either. But raw? Better break out the lube. Stephanie Meyer owns these characters._

**Chapter One.**

_Undercover housekeeper?_

_Maid-to-order?_

_Bedroom engineer?_

Who was I kidding? I shook out my tenth hotel bed coverlet of the morning, smoothing the heavy material free of wrinkles and straightened up with a sigh. It was only nine a.m. and already I was daydreaming about my freedom.

The job, modest as it was, had been a lifesaver. My luck had nearly run out; I'd already spent several sleepless nights in one of the local homeless shelters, fending off unwelcome sexual advances and violent drunks who seemed to find my thin cot a convenient puking station. I'd nowhere left to turn that day I'd physically plowed into one Kate McGallen exiting the Peet's Coffee shop near the shelter.

Kate was a long-forgotten friend from MU art history classes taken a thousand years ago who looked glad to see me. Catching up over a latte I couldn't afford, I admitted I'd lost both my apartment and my web design job during the same month. She'd looked stricken, then hesitated before suggesting I apply at the Hotel chain where she was the marketing director. There weren't any web designer openings at present, she allowed, but I might find something else in the interim.

Embarrassed at how much I'd revealed, I'd still been too close for comfort to becoming a regular in the soup kitchen line to ignore the unexpected opportunity for a regular paycheck. Unemployment benefits only stretched so far; mine were due to expire in a week.

I applied and based on the slim recommendation from Kate, I had won an interview that inexplicably led to me becoming a star employee in one of the MSuite Hotel's housekeeping divisions. Men as room cleaners was a novelty in this Midwestern town, possibly even a potential liability, but I was no threat. A gay man, I could look all day long at surprised buck-naked women stepping from hotel shower stalls without blinking.

The closeted human resources interviewer clearly guessed that fact about me, too, although neither of us mentioned it.

So after expressing my complete lack of interest in toilet repair and light-bulb changing routines, for which there were no openings in the engineering division anyway, when the HR guy apologetically suggested a job cleaning rooms? I snatched it up, the term _grateful_ far too tame for how I was feeling inside.

It was one of the few times being gay had proven to be an asset during my adult life.

Turns out, I was a natural at cleaning bathrooms, vacuuming, folding towels, and tucking in corners. Good at plumping pillows, too. Push too hard on a guy like me, stereotypes aside, and _maid-extraordinaire_ pops out.

Who knew? And the not-so-diverse crew of mostly Hispanic ladies? We had the camaraderie thing going on, even though language frequently proved a barrier to some of the finer points. But it was just making beds, so I got along fine.

After nine months, I had settled into a comfortable routine and was past the point of making ends meet. I always met my daily room quota, and was often able to exceed it, earning a welcome bonus in my pay. I was satisfied with my current station in life, even if it wasn't much more than a temporary detour on the road to becoming the world-class something-or-other that was my destiny. What I may have lacked in enthusiasm, I made up for in efficiency.

Cleaning hotel rooms might have appeared to be a setback to some, but I was only twenty-eight. Still plenty of time to make my indelible mark upon the world.

My living situation had been sketchy at first, but after two months squatting in a foreclosed house without windows but within easy walking distance of my new job, I made rent and a deposit. I also knew I'd never take hot water for granted again. My new place was small but clean, the mattress and sheets salvaged from the hotel's excess inventory after a recent room renovation. I'd also picked up a couch, kitchen table, and other miscellany from sidewalk discards and the rare Goodwill run.

Content, but my constant daydreaming was symptomatic of a deep restlessness, too. I needed a distraction while I waited for the economy to recover sufficiently to resume my real life.

Around about then was the first time I saw him. Seventeen, I judged, with a smudged face and threadbare clothing, he was digging carefully into the hotel's kitchen dumpster. I watched quietly as he kicked in frustration at a rat that was sniffing at his boot heels, looking for its opportunity to dart in for a share of the leftovers. My cig had burned down to the filter. The stench of the rotting food must have overwhelmed its burning acrid odor; he hadn't noticed me watching him from the shadowed alcove.

I dropped the still-smoldering butt. He had a nice one, himself.

If I hadn't snuck up behind him, blocking his movements, such was his surprise I'm sure he'd have neatly escaped around me when I landed a soft "Boo!" in his ear.

His eyes were dazed and very young. Not scared, though. Not defiant, either. Not too long on the streets, then.

"Boy, you must be way gone." I motioned with my arm at where he'd been efficiently sorting the refuse, waiting for his denial.

"Two days," he eventually admitted, dirty hands now stuffed out-of-sight in his jacket.

"Wait here. I'll snag you some decent food from the kitchen. Lunch Cook has a thing for me," I casually explained, hoping his hunger would overcome his skittishness.

He nodded mutely, a wishful expression on his sweet features. I shot a look over my shoulder as I stepped inside the kitchen door, my eyes fierce with the command: _Stay_.

And swore loudly when I returned triumphantly a few minutes later with a cheese and olive fold-over and some chips: he was gone.

Never one to waste food, I tore into the gooey treat, wondering if he'd found something edible in the garbage bin after all. I myself had never sunk that low, but again it had been a close thing. He needed some help.

Resolving to keep an eye out, I took one last glance around, but nothing gave any indication he'd ever been there, let alone which direction he'd gone. I still had twelve rooms to clean for the afternoon, but maybe later there'd be time to search for him. I could easily slog the six blocks in the cold to the abandoned warehouses frequented by the homeless. I'd seen the signs of desperate living left behind by countless hopeless wanderers, the fogged bus windows barely blunting their harsh existence before I turned away each evening, resolute in my determination to never join their ranks. Although I was warm back inside the hotel corridors, I shivered again at the memory of my own narrow escape from that too-real fate.

The brick warehouses were as good a place as any to start looking for him. Seventeen and scared was young to be on the streets with winter settling into the city's deserted downtown. The air off the Missouri River heightened the wind's chill, and a kid without a heavy coat didn't stand a chance against it.

He'd thank me once he got to know me, using that softly accented voice I'd only heard the once, but liked right away.

That night, after a quick, perfunctory look around the perimeter of the warehouse sidewalks with no luck, I left, unsure myself why I was making the effort. Walking around in the dark probably wasn't my best idea, and I realized it in time to catch the express bus and scoot out of there with the daylight waning.

Might be a small-town boy from Joplin, but the City had smartened me up. The family farm was sold two generations back, so there was nothing for me to return to but parents who wouldn't welcome me. I was a man who favored having a plan, though, so I'd resume my hunt for him in a few days.

Turned-out I didn't need to wait. Two days later, same time, different cigarette, he was back in the alley behind the kitchen. Must have found something good in the earlier bin; perhaps he'd decided to add the Hotel to his regular route.

Or maybe he was simply as desperate as I'd feared becoming not-that-long-ago.

"Edward." I offered gently when I noticed his slight figure pause, harkening to the sound of my sneakers squeaking against the grime-encrusted lot.

"Wish you'd stop sneaking up on me," he grumbled, his voice catching in the cold.

"Sound hoarse. You sick?" Not that I expected him to admit it.

"Nothing like that."

"So what's your name? You got one, don't you?"

"Don't give it out to strangers." That drawl again, but more pronounced this time. I didn't think I was pushing him that hard, but I could let up.

"Too cold to be sleeping out," I heard myself saying. I waited, and my voice piped up again in the lengthening silence. "You got a blanket?"

That earned me at least a look, his eyes drifting up to meet mine. Lord, they were blue. _Bluer __than __blue_ popped into my head. Apt for this one.

"Don't you mind your own business?" he snapped at me.

Must have been both of us understanding this conversation was going nowhere fast, because I sighed just as he did. "Boy…" I began again, just as he found a grin from somewhere, the movement flaking away a thin line of dirt along his jaw line. At least, I hoped it was just dirt.

"Don't lecture me, old man."

"A decade's all I've got on you," I hazarded. _And __about __forty __pounds __and __several __IQ __points,_ I added meanly, but only to myself.

He nodded, his disbelief coloring his gaunt features.

But we seemed to have reached a standoff. I noticed he was looking behind me with longing, as I'd maneuvered myself during our verbal sparring between him and the dumpster. Now that was a safe topic.

"Want me to try again to snare you some food? It is lunchtime."

"Don't bother, I'll just take off again."

At least he was honest. But damn, eating out of the dumpster! That was too harsh, too rough. I couldn't allow it. He was just a teenager.

"Don't be a fool. You're living on the streets, let me help."

He ran a paw through his greasy strands. Impossible to tell what color—might have been weeks since he'd seen better than a standing up dry wipe down with a dirty towel, I bet.

"Help?" he sneered. "I'm doing fine."

Involuntarily, my hand reached out and captured the sleeve of his torn, too-small faded jacket. He met my eyes, a question there I'd rather not have seen. Not from this boy, anyway. I kept my grip, but cleared up his mistake. "I have to finish my shift, but it's going to snow tonight. You want a warm place to stay? Wait for me at the bus stop on Grand Street. You can shower, and sleep on my couch. Tomorrow, you head out again. That's all I'm offering." It was the truth, but my knees still felt a little weak.

A long pause before he worked out his question, but when it came, it sent a chill down my back. "I don't do anything for free, so why?"

"What's your name?"

With that, I guessed I'd crossed some invisible line, because he sucked in a breath and using the moment, turned and sprinted away. I wondered where he'd found the energy for that move. Energy took food, and there was no doubt he'd missed plenty of meals.

With effort, I dismissed him from my thoughts and returned to my mindless tasks for the afternoon.

Since I'd no expectation of seeing him, my surprise must have been apparent when I rounded the corner after my shift to find him standing half a block down past the bus stop. Perhaps I smiled, a natural enough reaction. Whatever I did, it must have spooked him, because he used my full stop to start walking away.

"Hey!" I yelled at his back, the approaching bus catching my eye, as I moved quickly enough to wrap my hand around his left shoulder. "There's the bus. Hustle; we'll have to wait a half-hour for the next one."

"I don't have the fare," he whined, twisting to escape my grip. "That's why I'm here, to tell you I can't go."

"Fuck the fare. I've got it!" I was shouting in my agitation, waving at the driver, who knew me, and pulling fruitlessly on nameless boy's jacket. "Move!" and yanked hard enough to get him stumbling, following me as I urged him on.

The bus driver, normally one with a quick grin, just grimaced. I flashed my pass and paid the second fare, noticing for the first time just how rank my companion smelled. I decided we'd stand, and herded him to the back where there were fewer people who I recognized. "Shush," I demanded as he was rattling on about paying me back for the fare, _somehow,__someway_. I shuddered to think of what he might be willing to do for the seven dollars.

Within forty minutes, we were mounting the stairs. I wasn't as proud of this apartment as I'd been of the previous one that I'd lost along with the City-finder web job, but it was safe enough. And I'd paid the rent two months in advance, so I felt relatively proud when I slid the deadbolt into place, my young friend looking shy and closer to fourteen in the early winter light.

"Shower first," I instructed, sounding gruff and unfriendly even to me. "I won't bother asking if you're hungry—I know the answer. Use the towels, and clean behind your ears," I finished, remembering the phrase from my mother's stock supply.

"Sure. Thanks."

"One more thing?" I headed to the kitchen and returned quickly with a folded paper grocery bag. "Get rid of those clothes. I've some you can borrow." Watching the protest form on his face, I cut him off. "You stink…." The blush that bloomed in his cheeks was prominent enough to convince me that he must be a dirty-blond to have skin that fair beneath the grit.

"Sorry." He ducked his head and fled in the direction my finger was pointing, kicking off his boots as I watched.

It wasn't until he was gone, and the sound of the shower reached my ears that I knew I'd missed my best chance. I still didn't know his name.

Picking through my closet for him, I found a pair of old jeans and sweater I'd outgrown, but kept for sentimental reasons. Now I knew why. They made a neat pile of faded denim and scratchy gray wool he'd see when he opened the bathroom door.

Meantime, I had dinner to fix. Mac-and-cheese from a box sounded good; I thought he might like some hamburger as well, or maybe I could fry eggs in butter. After my near brush with the soup kitchen, I always kept a good supply of food on hand, most of it in cans that wouldn't go bad. No one expected to ever sink low enough to need such a back-up strategy, but if the Armageddon threatened, I'd be ready this time.

Hip hitched against the counter, my spoon moved mechanically through the egg-hamburger-onion scramble that still had a few minutes of cooking left. I stooped to peer through the glass in the oven door, pleased that the cheesy noodle dish had already begun to bubble, jumping at the unfamiliar sound of another person in my small kitchen when Nameless cleared his throat.

"Jasper." The steam from the shower had hoarsened his voice again; I knew for certain he had a cold. My delight at learning his name was overshadowed by my concern.

"Nice name." I waited a heartbeat before continuing. "You need aspirin. There's milk, and a glass over the sink. Take four—the bottle's in that second drawer. How long you been fighting it?" I'd said all this without looking at him, but my tone brooked no disagreement.

"Name's Jasper. And pleased to meet _you_." The last was quieter; he was bent down, rifling through the drawer contents now, searching for the medicine. He didn't bother responding to my question, though.

"And dry your hair," I insisted, still sounding like my mother. "I'm turning up the heat—use that handheld hanging off the bathroom sink." I'd bought the old Conair for two dollars at the thrift shop. It wasn't as nice as the ones I carefully reset every day in hotel room after room, but it did the trick. As I listened to his bare feet slap along the wooden floor, I added, "Three minutes, Jasper. Food is ready."

The boy, sparse with his words, spared no effort on his food. I was right about the hair color. And I was right that he was fairly sick.

"I can't stay," he clarified after all but scraping the crumbs from his second heaping plate of the evening. "That was good, but I have to get back." He coughed, a discreet sound in the suddenly-quiet room.

Playing it cool, I agreed. "Yes, the empty streets are calling your name." He gave me a suspicious look, correctly guessing I was being sarcastic. "Anybody waiting for you?"

Over the hissing of the radiator, a relic from the early days of the apartment building, he hesitated over how to answer my question without outright lying to me.

"Might be," he hedged.

Not a lie, but not the truth, either. And I didn't like his answer, because I wanted him to spend the night in my warm apartment. In fact, I was going to insist he take the spoonfuls of Nyquil before I poured some hot cocoa into him and tucked him beneath the spare comforter and soft, worn sheets. Thanks to my employer, I had extra bedding for my very first overnight guest. He didn't need to know, wouldn't have cared that I'd pulled it from a shallow cardboard box in the corner, yet I was thrilled to have the luxury of back-up linens. It's the small things, as my Dad always said. Homespun wisdom that, unnoticed, had worked its way into my psyche as well.

"It's nearly seven-thirty. You probably noticed I don't have a television. Listen to the radio when I'm not reading. Let's turn in, make it an early night. I like to be up by five." I mentioned the cocoa plan as if interested in his response, but basically I steamrolled over his objections that he had places to be, people to see. Sometimes a decade can be a definite advantage when it comes to an argument. When he finally relented, he had but one question left.

"Umm, how am I going to get back?" I snorted; he knew as well as I did he had no place to return to in the morning.

"Boy, I'd feel better if you were to stay here tomorrow." I quickly flipped through a mental list of my possessions. In truth, if he took anything, I wouldn't miss it. But I didn't believe he was the thief-type. Before he could disagree with me, I hurried on with, "You need time out of the cold to loosen that sickness in your chest." His coughing had become steadier as dinner progressed; I expected he'd keep me awake until the Nyquil kicked in. "One day inside won't hurt. Plenty of extra in the cupboards for you. A couple of bowls of soup tomorrow, try the Campbell's tomato, and I predict you'll knock that cough's chokehold on you."

I watched closely as the fight went out of his eyes; he looked sleepy, the heat from the radiators and the aspirin bringing about the change in his attitude. I felt more than a little sluggish myself.

"You don't mind?" he was able to get past the yawn that threatened to swallow him before he politely covered his mouth with the back of his hand, exposing his pink palm to my gaze. Long fingers with nails that needed clipping. Tomorrow I'd leave out one of the many manicure sets I'd saved from the hotel trash, stocked only in the premium rooms. Jasper seemed the type to pick up on an obvious hint about the hygiene miss.

"S'okay," I mumbled, careful to keep the grin from surfacing.

He hesitated, but then, "Thanks, Edward. Okay if I make up the bed on the floor?"

"Couch, not the floor. Floor's got a draft from the front door," I insisted, the lie falling easily from my lips.

By the time I had the cocoa ready, and the spoon and bottle of cough meds at hand, he was already modestly covered up, his borrowed clothing folded over the back of the couch. I suppressed the brief vision of him slipping out of the denim, pants falling to his ankles, pale skin exposed. But maybe there'd be a time and a place for that thought in our future.

_Our __future?_ Who had I become? Mary Poppins? He was just a street kid with no education. I suspected I already knew his story, knew why he was living on his own, bereft of family and friends and eating from hotel garbage bins. But he hadn't offered to share that information, and tonight wasn't the time to begin asking questions, not if I wanted to earn his trust.

And I did. Want to earn his trust.

It didn't make any sense.

But well before I could figure it out, Jasper was passed out on the lumpy couch, his face nearly buried in the bunched up pillow, breathing revealing the congestion that had built up in his lungs. I sat quietly for a few minutes before for the second time in one day, my hand stole to where it did not belong, smoothing down the tangled curls in his thin, fair hair.

Now, that mess was something I could fix. The reasons for him being on the street would take more time.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author****'****s ****note: **Been reading a huge swath of male-male romances on my Kindle, and I know the change in my writing is the direct result of coming up against the likes of such talented authors as Marie Sexton, Damon Suede, Heidi Cullinan, Amy Lane, and Z.A. Maxfield, among others. I'll never be in their league, but I thank them for sharing their lovely stories and heart-wrenching characters with us, and encourage you to pick up their books for their markedly mature insights into the human condition._

**Chapter 2**

The next day, in spite of my efforts otherwise, my thoughts kept returning to puzzle over the history of my overnight guest: a slim boy I'd managed to save from salvaging food no one else wanted. The polite, distrustful teen who appeared to hold no more value for the world than the discarded food I'd prevented him from eating; wasn't anyone missing him? Shouldn't this story include the image of a loving family distraught by his absence?

He'd given no hint of it, and I was becoming more convinced by the hour that he had no one.

Maybe no one else wanted him...but me? I wasn't so sure, but he seemed to be growing on me.

The work day passed quickly; our occupancy rate was good for a downtown property, I'd been told. To me, it only meant the opportunity for additional bonuses as the Housekeeping department continued to struggle with the challenge of staffing just enough personnel to turn the rooms without missing check-in deadlines versus having too little work to share out among the maids.

As my department head Jane preferred to err on the side of caution, I was usually able to pull the extra rooms to clean that guaranteed a fatter check. Today was Friday, and payday. Seeing the extra forty dollars in my envelope, I decided with some satisfaction that my guest deserved a treat.

Since I wasn't sure what a seventeen year-old desired that I could afford, I'd wait until I saw him tonight to quiz him about possibilities. I returned to my cleaning cart with a renewed sense of purpose. It was four o'clock before I knew it, and stripping out of my improvised uniform, I dropped the slacks and shirt in the staff laundry bin, packed up and raced for the bus stop.

Breathless after my hurried exit from the bus and sprint up the building's four flights of stairs, I paused outside my apartment door. Willing myself to calmly insert the key, I cautioned my rapidly beating heart that he had likely already left for the day. If he was there, on the couch, I'd be casual and offer to fix dinner again.

If he wasn't, I'd have to return tomorrow to the boarded-up warehouses to find him. No man had ever twisted me around his finger so quickly, so effortlessly, so carelessly.

And we hadn't even kissed.

When the room was dark, and the apartment's air still, disappointment came at me in a wave, soothed quickly by a tentative, "Edward?"

Was it wrong to feel so much at so little? I didn't care.

"In the flesh." My voice was placid, adult.

The silence in the apartment grew while I waited for a reply. When I knew he wasn't up to saying more, I remembered dinner.

"I've a frozen pepperoni I've been saving, but when was the last time you had Godfather's pizza? One of the City's best, and they deliver down here."

"Don't know the place. What's my share?"

"Got a bonus in my paycheck—had to stop at the bank, s'why I'm later than usual. You like mushrooms and Canadian bacon?" Was there a soul alive who didn't?

"I don't like pineapple." His voice was soft, remembering, and the sweetness of it did funny things to my chest.

"Makes two of us, then. We'll walk down to the payphone at the 7-11 and order. Did you find a pair of socks in my dresser? And why're you sitting in the dark? I can afford the lights on, you know," I admonished, leaning over to flick the switch, the conversation up to then taking place in the near dark. I recalled how small animals seemed to prefer the safety of the dark; perhaps that was the right way to think of this man-child in front of me.

A small, furry, easily-alarmed animal with wide deep-set blue eyes and a too-thin frame.

The walk to the convenience store was made in a companionable silence, a few inches separating us. I wondered again what he made of our relationship, if I wasn't too optimistic in using the word.

"Cough's better, I see," I remarked after our order had been placed.

Evidently a nod was all the response that warranted.

"Let's get some pop to have with the pizza."

Sucking down an ice-cold Dad's root beer, I watched his throat muscles move as he gulped his Dr. Pepper. Looked like we'd both need seconds for the pizza; I made to snag another couple of bottles when his hand landed on my upper arm reaching for the case, staying me.

It was the first time he'd touched me. My eyes met his in question.

"How much's all this costing, Edward?"

I thought for a second, and made to sooth his silent fear. "My treat. You don't owe me for it."

His eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"Nothing like that, boy. I'm gay, as I'm sure you guessed. But I don't take payment like that." I felt strong, certain, in my knowledge that I'd never take advantage.

Plus, I didn't really care to know exactly how he'd been contemplating repaying me. I didn't need the temptation; it'd been more than a year since my last tryst in the lot behind Side Kicks Saloon on 37th Avenue.

Jasper didn't venture any more after my confession, but he didn't act horrified or disrespectful or offer up any objections. We were both quiet on the way back to my apartment, and due to our killing time fingering the goods in the 7-11 aisles, we intercepted the Godfather's delivery guy at the top of the stairs just as he was ready to bolt. I tipped him generously, and we entered, the heady smell of hot mozzarella and sizzling bacon filling my nostrils.

"Let's sit on the couch," his voice rose at the end in question as he watched me flip on the lights again. "Can we play the radio?"

"I usually listen to the news; feel free to change the channel." Listening to music would be peaceful, provided he wasn't a heavy metal fan.

When I returned with two plates piled high and paper towels, he'd found a jazz station I also liked and set up our drink bottles side-by-side. Yes, this was what it felt like to be civilized, to have a boyfriend at my side as we sat down for dinner.

Definitely time to learn more about him. "Been on your own for long?" I asked around a too-full mouth of Canadian bacon and cheese.

His eyes met mine, and he stopped chewing, contentment sliding right off his face. "I quit school. I'm old enough," he eventually answered, careful to swallow first.

"How old are you?" the question that had been bothering me since I'd first seen him a few days earlier.

"Twenty-one?"

I squinted in disbelief, nudging him with a teasing "Fifteen?"

Indignation colored his cheeks. "Nineteen," he tried again to convince me.

"This isn't a negotiation. You even own a driver's license?"

"Seventeen. I was seventeen in the summer." Pausing, he clarified with, "Had a license, but it got lost."

"Age of consent then in this State."

"Same as in Texas."

I doubted he'd intended to let that nugget slip, but I let it pass without making a fuss.

"Think you ought to sleep here again. Cough's better, but another night indoors would help it."

I saw the relief bloom before he reluctantly shook his head. "I'm a nuisance. Time to head out."

"You got bus fare?"

"I can make it," the defiance suddenly present in the set of his shoulders, the tilt of his chin.

I didn't want to know what he had in mind; I could guess at the details.

"Couch is still free, and nice to have company. You'd probably never guess, but you're my first visitor." Back in Joplin, we'd often had distant relatives stopping in from their far-flung farms for an overnight. My momma's people, the Masons, had farmed the region since before the Civil War. We always searched for the family connection whenever we met strangers in town and usually could trace something out, given time.

He puffed out a breath before settling back against the couch. I watched in fascination as his hand moved off his own thigh and over to settle lightly on mine. "This what you have in mind? I'm good at it, when I have to be."

A swell of longing exploded in my core. Hell yes, I wanted what he was offering; I couldn't deny it. I turned to line up my face with his, meeting him eye-to-eye. He was clean, warm, well-fed, and willing. No money was changing hands, and I knew he was old enough to understand what he was offering.

I also knew if we did what my cock was urging, tightening against the front of my jeans in response to the weight of his hand so close to its surging warmth, he'd be gone in the morning without a backward glance.

Did I want that? Couldn't I hold out for something more from this barely-past-jailbait boy?

"No thinking," he admonished, his hand sliding to cup me through the jeans. "You want a blowjob or not?" He squeezed me then, adding, "and your lie detector will out you, so don't bother trying."

I shifted then, ostensibly to get away, but really to ease more into that fierce hold he had on me. Felt so good after so many months without.

"Guess that answers that." My eyes closed as the springs shifted beneath us, the noise of him scooting down to his knees mixed up with the sensations of his one hand keeping me firmly in his grasp as he popped my jean's top button and began working his way down the row of them.

Weak, helpless against the assault of his fingers, I didn't want him to stop.

It was only his muttered litany that saved me.

"Knew this was what you wanted; knew it when I felt you staring at my butt that first day in the alley. Always what guys like you want." There was no accusation, just resignation that another adult had failed him.

I found the strength and stayed his hand, covering it with my own. "I don't want that, Jasper," I lied with as much conviction as I could muster.

Again, disbelief narrowed his eyes as he leaned back on his heels, the harsh light from my shade-free lamp turning his hair deceptively shiny and smooth. I ached to touch it, touch him, rub my chest against his, circle his narrow waist with my palms as I explored the taste of his mouth and tongue.

"You'd be the first."

Confused by the double meaning for a few seconds, I shook my head, and lifted his chin. He obligingly opened his mouth into a soft, rounded "O" for me, and lowered his lashes to flutter against the curve of his cheeks.

_Seductive __little __sucker!_ Now I was angry with him for the cheapness of his technique, reminded as I was of the reasons he'd learned that move. Disgusted, I didn't doubt he used it every day on strangers to earn a few extra dollars for his effort.

"You got a pimp who's missing your presence?" My angry words tumbled out, too harsh for one so young as Jasper, but I couldn't take them back. I waited for the big reveal.

"Nope. If I did, I'd probably be doing better than I am. Shake off this nasty flu some fucker gave me." A feeling of cold dread crept up my arms at the remorseless tone. Had some fucker also left him with other unwelcome gifts he'd be sharing with me as well?

I was flummoxed now, conscious I should be showing him the door, my inner prig asserting himself, but too horny to just let him walk away. I hesitated, uncertain which way to jump.

He solved my dilemma, standing and snagging a large portion of the pizza before heading for the door. "Later. Catch you at the next dumpster run, maybe."

And before I could protest, or push my leaden limbs from the center of the lumpy couch where he'd been sitting next to me a scant few minutes ago, enjoying his dinner, he'd slammed out the door. The echo of his steps died away on the stairs.

Guilt washed over me. I thought I'd seen the glint of tears in his eyes, but maybe I was projecting. Still, the moisture dribbled down into the corners of my mouth, and using the last clean paper towels, I quickly scrubbed my face clean of any evidence.

It was time to clear away the remains of the pizza. Practicalities asserted themselves: how would he find his way back to the homeless area near the Hotel where he had to be living?

Supposed I knew, although I didn't want to count up how many cocks he'd suck along the way.

- 00000 -

_**Note:** The LGBT homeless youth statistics are both frightening and heartbreaking. Narrowminded individuals who reject their children, administrators who turn a blind eye, cruelly indifferent adults who could make a difference and don't have all contributed to this problem. I grew up in the Midwest in which this story is set, and change comes slowly to this part of the country. But it will come._


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author****'****s ****note: **Edward is having a difficult day._

**Chapter 3**

If any day of the week was worse than the others, hands down, Monday would be it. Especially true after a weekend spent killing a bottle of peach schnapps and a couple of six packs.

Not that I woke up any the wiser for it. I blamed the beer for that.

Surveying the first wreck of a room I had to put to rights, I wondered again if weekends at the Hotel weren't just one long, uninterrupted party with staff joining in on the fun. They sure didn't do much room cleaning that I could see.

My next two hours were so focused, if Lola hadn't stopped to poke me on her way past, I'd have missed break. I was ahead of schedule, so with some reluctance, I closed up and followed her down in the staff elevator to the basement lounge. Breaks were mandatory—no working through them or lunch to leave early.

The one solid friend I'd made among the other maids, Carmen, was late as the day shift assembled. Coffee was the only item on my agenda; for the first time I could remember, I felt suffocated by the dull routine. I needed to laugh. Instead, we got Jane. I wasn't the only one groaning into my sleeve when our boss's small blond head peeked through the doorway.

Jane Salazar bothering maid-staff during break time wasn't strictly illegal, union or not, but no one dared complain. Tiny Jane was suspiciously young and dewy to have earned her position. Most of the older Hispanic ladies, Carmen included, resented her breathing, let alone the sight of her face so early on a Monday.

To keep the peace, I usually sided with my sisters during the Jane-bashing that followed the impromptu pep-talks. Those days when I would have been lumped in with management were long gone.

But today was not my usual one. So when a hundred and fifty pounds of nylon-encased, agitated woman neatly slid into the seat beside me, ready to join in ripping Janey a new one, I let out a sigh of relief. I was so glad to see old Carmen, it was all I could do to hold back from grabbing her and making a Tequila run to lace the daily cup of java.

Her "Buen dia, Eduardo," was small comfort against the shrill tide of _puta_, _mierda_, and _cono__'__s_ skittering over my bruised flesh like bristles on a stiff wire brush. Truth was, I was so out of sorts with the whole Jasper mess, even Carmen couldn't calm me. Before I knew it, I found myself slinking over to the lone chair a good six feet from the estrogen crowd. It was that or start beating on something.

Silence reigned as ten dark heads swiveled in my direction. Yeah, Eduardo was both pissed and miserable by turns, ladies.

_Beware __the __savage __gay __man_—just how would that sound in Spanish, I asked the group. Unable to stop myself, I offered to write up the warning sign to hang around my own neck, if someone would only translate. All my smart mouth earned me was several deservedly nasty looks.

Wisely left to sulk on my own, I was able to clean my rooms in peace until lunch. Then, it was every maid and man for his-self, I guess. Carmen walked the hotel floors until she found me. Cursing softly in Spanish, _tonto __del __culo _the only one I knew, she was determined to levitate my limp body from the last of the unmade beds of the morning.

Sprawling on the covers was strictly a misdemeanor in maid-land, but possibly a killing offense in Jane-land. I didn't care. Last thing I was doing was making another fool's errand to the kitchen's back alley over lunchtime. No torture Jane-the-Verbal-Impaler could dish out was half as bad as the voice in my head, urging me to do just that.

Resisting Carmen didn't work—not that I had any experience with it. She muscled me right off that mattress and out the door. Her superhuman strength was the direct result of her and Elzy having survived three teenage daughters—girls were always tougher than boys. Worse fight I'd ever seen was between two women in a gay bar. I hadn't stuck around to get details.

Backing me against the wall of the staff laundry room on the third floor, Carmen gravely studied my pained expression for a few minutes. When I wouldn't meet her heavily-lined eyes, she stepped back and considered her next move.

It was a good one. Reminded me again why I was grateful to be sleeping with men.

"Have dinner with me and Eleazar tonight? A big plate of huaraches and a Dos Equis or two will heal what ails you. Elzy's gonna make his red beans and rice, baby. Been too long since we had you at our table." Her hand moved to smooth down the shockwave of my hair, a leftover from drunken snuggling under the bed pillows last night, reaching for someone who wasn't there. Out of gel, I'd given up on trying to tame the damn stuff this morning.

I mutely shook my head, narrowly evading a matronly headlock. If I hadn't, in ten seconds flat she'd of been shoving my tear-soaked face in her cleavage and rocking the shit out of me while crooning some lullaby. It would've been days before I'd been judged capable of crossing the street on my own after that. Story might've made the Hotel daily.

I snorted. A grown man should have nothing to fear from a woman a good foot shorter. And I didn't need another mother—it had taken me a couple of decades to shake the smothering of the one I'd been born to. More accurately, in a quarter hour of discussion one sultry June day, tempers flaring, I'd managed to erase whatever maternal feelings the woman had clearly been faking. And got the boot besides.

Careful to stay just out of petting range, I was able to sidestep Carmen's decidedly fancy footwork only to take a direct hit elsewhere. Before I realized it, I was sworn to dinner on Sunday at her house. Not that I was complaining; she and Elzy had fed me many nights before I got my own place, their generosity offered kindly and without judgment. I was too old to be their son, too young for other things, but somehow the three of us just fit.

She was a good woman who knew hurt when she saw it, but this time huaraches, rice and beans was not the cure-all I needed. The ache that was cramping my gut had nothing to do with missing a meal and everything to do with missing my young friend. Such a mean-spirited shit I'd been, my careless words driving a homeless boy from the warmth and safety of my home after dark. A boy too familiar with the ways of the street, and too newly on his own to know some decisions couldn't be erased. There were some problems could follow a person throughout his life, no matter how short it might be cut.

I realized right then I had to find him. Fix it before it got much worse.

Carmen, sharper than most, didn't need to guess at what was causing the upset. She'd been on me about my sex life for months, though she wouldn't have used those words. I hated that my face was such an open book, so easily read by the older woman. Yet, true to my cursed dual nature, I was grateful for her as well. Something I maybe needed to tell her more often.

Then I recalled the rest of the afternoon shift still had to be gotten past. My foul mood just kept growing with the certainty there was no way I could stake out the dumpster all afternoon in hopes of catching him. Not and hold onto the job, anyway.

"He got a name, this gentleman who's got you twisted up inside? Do I know him?" The squinty-eyed interrogation had begun. Seemed she wouldn't be able to hold her questions until Sunday dinner after all.

"Just some kid who I caught dumpster-diving out back. Took a liking to the yellow-haired little devil and now he's run off." Well, that was close enough to save me from going to hell, if not purgatory.

She waited for me to continue. And waited some more until with an exasperated sigh, she made to flat hand me upside of the head. I ducked, and she laughed at my move. We were friends again.

"How old?" she wanted to know, cutting to the heart of the matter.

"Seventeen, if he ain't lying."

"Younger than Elena, then."

Did it matter? Well, yes, I guess it did. "How is Elena?" I asked, jumping on the distraction.

"The girls are good girls. You know that, or I would have said so. What are you doing about your runaway?"

I didn't know yet, but there were a few hours to work it out in my mind while I flipped mattresses and wiped down bathroom tile. Expected I'd come up with something.

We parted ways after a sweet motherly hug, me telling her to save it for Elzy, who'd appreciate it more. I headed back to work with her giggle playing over and over in my mind. It helped to ease the worry, some.

I did finish up an hour early, in spite of the messy weekend partiers' best efforts. Today I went ahead and clocked out, extra rooms be damned. Only five days on my radar and my new friend was already costing me a fortune. But with daylight burning, I had to find him quick. Official housekeeping business had me cadging a flashlight from Demos, the building engineer. I set out, running the last few blocks once I'd made certain my boy wasn't hanging around the kitchen alley while I was out dicking around where I needn't be.

Not that I was stupid; I'd palmed a length of pipe Cook kept by the kitchen door; it disappeared right up my coat sleeve. Never knew when such a thing could come in handy. One of the newer busboys had caught me, and checking me out, asked if I needed any help. Yeah, but not the kind I suspected he was offering. He shrugged and moved away with, "Another time, then."

Didn't think so.

Walking steadily, I noted the wind was coming off the river again today. Made me doubly glad for my gloves and sorry for anyone doing without.

And I struck lucky the second man I stopped to ask about Jasper. From my description, could have been any number of lost souls, but he was patient enough we soon narrowed it down. Hated knowing there were so many out there just like my boy, but while I maybe had the name wrong, the rest was right enough. I'd clear up the Hale part when I finally caught up with him.

Man hadn't seen the Hale fellow in a few days, but he could tell me where I to find him. I entered the furthest derelict structure, glad of the flashlight as I had to climb three flights. The human misery—it was just palpable. I shuddered, seeing myself there, huddled under a blanket, all my worldly possessions in plastic bags around me. At least there weren't little kids. Parents least had enough sense to take whole families to the shelters. And if I wasn't right about that, I didn't care to be educated otherwise.

Couple of the better off folks had dogs, but aside from the barking, no one said word one as I passed. I was breathing easier after a couple of yards, thinking I'd find Jasper right quick and using my best arguments, get us both out of there before the dark set in. Always had been an optimist, when I wasn't feeling otherwise.

A creepy sensation settled right between my shoulder blades, the first inkling something was going down. Turned out it was me. Coat wrapped up over my head so I couldn't see, someone pushed me forward and swiped my wallet from my jeans. That lead pipe hadn't done me a bit of good.

Since I carried nothing much in the wallet but some twenties, the monthly bus pass and a few business cards of people I'd lost track of, I figured I'd survive. Dirtier but not too worse off, I stood up and righted my coat. After brushing off my knees, I felt the back of my head where the light blow had landed. _Didn__'__t __hurt __too __much_, and warier now, I resumed my mission.

If I found Jasper, that'd be good. If not, I'd come back tomorrow.

_Just __keep __looking,_ I steadied myself with, the flashlight feeding my courage. He had to be here somewhere.

Voice a bit more tremulous than I wished, I tried calling his name a few times when I found a human nest where I'd expected it, but with no one at home. Couldn't be sure it belonged to Jasper, but I wasn't about to stick my nose into the filth and check for his scent. I'd probably passed out if I tried it. There was excrement and urine, too, in the immediate vicinity. If that old warehouse had running water, I'd have eaten my hat.

Time was passing. I knew I needed to get the heck out of Dodge before something worse than a bump on the head happened. I'd always had common sense, and the setting sun moved fast. I tried another set of stairs, on the off chance my guide's counting skills might have been impaired by the bottle of Cisco clasped behind his back.

It was tiring, trying to look in every corner, and keep eyes in the back of my head. I checked my watch, thinking _twenty __minutes, __tops_. Passing through a particularly damaged part of the building, I wondered how the walls remained upright.

Turned a corner, and there was Jasper, curled up in ball. Sleeping as if nothing else in the world mattered. As if I hadn't been worried sick for days, regretting every little thing I'd said or thought about him. As if….

Well, it made me so mad, I nearly turned heel and left without waking him. For all of about five seconds, anyway. I crouched down and watched closely as his eyes opened, heavy with sleep. They were the same blue that had captured me so thoroughly, leaving no doubt I had the right boy. And looking about as dirty as the first time I'd seen him. That's what living rough does to a man.

"What'cha doing here, Edward? It's not safe here. I was just about to get up." He slapped a hand over his mouth, suddenly conscious of the niceties. I felt we were well past them by this point. Still, it was an opening.

"I've got your toothbrush and a fresh tube of Crest back at my place. Why don't you come home with me, forget about Friday night? Get some good food into you. Sleep on the couch."

Happy for a moment, his expression clouded over as he remembered. I knew what he was about to say, but my mouth refused to work. I couldn't stop him in time. "Can't. Got to work tonight. You better leave now." The sudden anxiety to get moving had him practically vibrating.

I was just sick. There couldn't be too many jobs a boy like him could do. Other than the obvious one. The one it hurt too much to mention out loud.

Well, I'd known it pretty much from the first, hadn't I? In the end, I hadn't fooled anyone but myself.

Wiping a smudge off his face, and feeling like it was a near thing whether I'd have the strength, I said as clearly as I could get out, "I'm sorry to hear that. Real sorry." Then I stood tall and straight, hands loose at my side. I felt so damn helpless right about then.

He nodded, eyes big, and I hated the both of us just for that moment. He knew that I knew, knew the worst of it, and especially that he hadn't been exactly truthful. What was there left to be said? Still, I tried.

"Offer still stands. You know where I live."

Watching him struggle for words, crazy plans flitted through my head, like rolling him up in the rags he was using for a bed and taking him home with me anyway.

Or shadowing him and beating the crap out of whoever turned up when my boy's _shift_ was over to steal his money.

But I knew the difference between fantasy and the desperate life in front of me. Unless I wanted to own him, there wasn't much I could do for him. He'd have to come to me.

"Edward?"

"Eh?"

"I'm sorry about the other night thing. I can see you're not like most men."

The bone he'd thrown me was what finally did it. I'd offered and been turned down. He might of kept talking, but my misery was acting like a blanket, muffling whatever noises were falling within earshot. I couldn't make sense of any of it.

And the extra twenty for a box of rubbers was long gone. Along with the will to insist _he_ insist on protection. How could he survive doing what he doing, taking the chances he was?

I was a failure all around.

Talked out and sunk in my own ball of misery, I was back down on the street without remembering how I'd gotten there. Such a cliché until it happens to you.

I waited until I was out of sight of the buildings, then stooped, emergency bus fare still wrapped around my ankle. With nothing more than a slight headache to show for my tracking efforts, I ended up catching my usual bus back to my apartment. Stumbled over my wallet, too, minus the twenties.

All that drama. And it had taken less than an hour of my life.

- 0000 -

_**Note:** I will post the next chapter over the weekend. Appreciate the feedback, story alerts, and favorites._


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author****'****s ****Note:** Life is a journey—pack a raincoat._

**Chapter 4**

Middle of the night is when demons emerge to mess with your sanity. That Monday night one had a pitchfork with my name etched into the handle. Aspirins I'd swallowed before bed were useless against the insomnia. I couldn't shake the feeling leaving Jasper behind in that cesspit was the biggest mistake of my life. A boy making choices he made couldn't have had anyone to watch out for him. The self-recriminations ballooned during those awful sleepless wee hours of the morning. When the knot from the blow to my head started throbbing again, it just sealed the deal.

Never did fall back to sleep, just went on in to work Tuesday and sat drinking weak coffee, waiting for the start of my shift. Always at the back of my mind was the voice telling me Jasper hadn't been able to count on Edward to steer him right.

Still, can't save a boy who won't reach for the rescue rope.

End of the day, back tender from too much bending and the fall I'd taken, I'd finally worked out how to do better by him. He could move in with me; we'd start the paperwork for his GED. I'd try to get him on with Cook bussing tables. Not a huge step up in the world, but boy would begin to see his way to making better choices. Kate McGallen had given me a push that stopped my downward spiral. Least I could do would be to pass it along.

And if it helped me knowing he'd be in the apartment with me at night, our friendship building, sharing meals, who did it hurt? Didn't take a genius to deduce no one but me wanted him much.

Resolve stiffened, I knew where I'd be spending my lunch hours henceforth.

Waiting, I smoked a lot of cigarettes that week in between the tasteless bologna on white bread sandwiches I choked down over my lunch hour. Wind was colder, but I hardly felt it. Stood there in that smelly alley day after day, thinking today'd be the one Jasper'd try his luck again behind the Hotel's kitchen. This time, 'no' wouldn't be acceptable from the boy. He'd be going home with me. The first order of business would be a bath and a hot meal for the skinny runt.

Most days though, it was just me and the rats. Even Seth, the busboy who'd been sniffing around, gave up on me. Not that the idea of trading hand jobs with the cutie had never tempted me, but if nothing else panned out, we'd see. I noticed my Hotel uniform carried the stench of the kitchen refuse most afternoons, the soles of my sneakers sticking to the carpets. I began to reconsider my decision to never again risk my life re-entering that hellhole of a building as twilight fell. How he slept there was beyond comprehension; the men's shelter was a paradise by comparison.

A flock of conventioneers had begun arriving Wednesday; their excited racket wore on my nerves. The capacity crowd meant extra work, something that helped pass the time as I waited for Jasper to reappear. I'd volunteered for overtime that Saturday and Sunday morning, thinking maybe I'd be able to knock some sense into the worst of the partiers…

Jasper never reappeared. My only bright spot in the whole week was my Sunday dinner with Carmen and Elzy. But seeing Carmen and Elzy together just rubbed me the wrong way, a reaction I was careful to keep hid. On the outside, we meshed like always. The teasing between us three was relentless. I laughed again several times that night recalling some choice moments we'd shared over the year.

Turned out there was a surprise waiting for me. Elzy had found a used Accord on Craig's List; his inspired bartering skills would soon end my carless existence. I had the money saved in my account; tags and insurance wouldn't hurt too much, either. Thanks to Elzy, my rusty web design skills had earned me a deep discount off asking price.

Several phone calls later, we'd agreed I would complete the site design work over four weekends at the Accord seller's shop. I had only to retrieve my cash from the bank on Saturday to set it all in motion. Thanks to Elzy's determination, I'd own my first car since the repo man literally ripped the last one from my fingers. Watching it be hauled away, my home for the last four months truly gone, I had hoped the bank understood the despair beneath the claw marks I'd left on the paint job.

The used Accord wasn't much, a ten year old model, but it would be reliable enough for work. Scouring every inch of the posted photos, I could make out a rusted rear panel and twisted bumper. Carmen's husband, a weekend mechanic, promised to teach me to make the repairs, meaning I'd be spending even more time at their house. I'd have to get over my newfound jealousy of their coupledom.

The car put a lot of changes in perspective: my life was beginning to fill up again. On a whim, I decided to resubmit my resume Monday to Human Resources for a web marketing or designer position. Never hurt to try. I still had the letters of recommendation from former employers in a file I'd kept safe throughout my own bout of homelessness. Papers were a little grimy, but I'd reread them many a night by flashlight, telling myself those folks had believed in me. I owed it to them to continue to believe in myself.

In spite of my laughing protests about being too old for babysitters, I ended up staying over Sunday night in Carmen's guest bedroom. After breakfast, Elzy dropped us off at the entrance to the Hotel on the way to his high school science teacher job.

Changing into my housekeeping uniform, I saw I still had twenty minutes before shift. Hitting the alley for a smoke, I ran across Jasper.

Guess he'd been avoiding me after all, coming in the early morning hours when he hadn't expected me.

Morning pickings were slimmer, but he'd been desperate enough to compromise and shift up his schedule. Looked like I'd been reeking of the trash heap for no good reason.

His blinked several times after hearing my voice call his name: I hadn't wanted to startle him, intent as he'd been on his task. There was no mistaking the blush forming over his cheeks when once again the _he __knew, __I __knew, __he __knew _thing we had going on between us reared its ugly head.

Drawn to the boy in spite of my better sense, I found myself standing close, less than six inches separating us. With a critical eye, I noticed there'd been some recent Jasper upgrades. His clothes were newer, cleaner, and he'd washed his face that morning.

"'lo, Eddie."

"Edward to my friends. Hello yourself. Where you been sleeping?" That last one didn't sound quite right, but he let it slide.

"My sister's place." I was standing close enough to see that truth had cost him a bit.

I took his revelation in stride, I'm proud to say. He had a sister in town and he was sleeping rough? How did I miss this fact?

"She come up from Texas recently?"

He looked irritated at that, like I was getting up in his business, but after a moment, his face relaxed. Instead of snapping at me, he winked. The about-face surprised me so, I nearly missed his next words. "Last week, to be honest. My step-sister. Her dad was married to momma. She and I are squatting at her boyfriend's place. Way better than other hovels I've sheltered in since August."

So nearly two months he'd been alone in the City, sleeping on the streets and scouring the refuse piles.

With information flying fast and furious, I had to choose my words carefully or risk him clamming up. "So her boyfriend must be living somewhere around here? Or are you slumming? This Hotel only has a four diamond rating. Five diamond property is the next block over, the Sheraton Resort and Casitas."

He chuckled, the sound loose and happy. "I know it well," sounding much like a snooty connoisseur offering his opinion about a rare vintage. "But they lock their bins now—too many vagrants were showing up." Guess that explained why he'd moved on to our Hotel and found me.

"You settled in for awhile, then?" We'd already had the one snow; Old Man Winter was just getting started.

Shaking his head, I felt my stomach clench with worry again. "We can't stay there too long; he has two roommates who are complaining. I'm sleeping on the floor right now. Comfortable enough, though. Warm at night."

In the cold air, the fog from his breath was wrapping a pure white puffy halo around his face. Thinking to check my pockets, my fingers closed over the woolen material I remembered stuffing in my jacket yesterday morning.

Nodding my understanding, I pulled out the royal blue skullcap with team insignia. "I found this in the closet—doesn't fit. You take it." Not strictly true as I'd bought it in the hotel gift shop Friday, the color reminding me of his velvety eyes in the near dark of my apartment.

"Rangers fan, myself." He shrugged apologetically, reaching for it to rub his index finger over the white stitched depiction of a baseball. Sniffing it, he looked at me. "Smells new?" doubt clouding his enthusiasm. I shook my head, watching as he accepted my lie, carelessly shoving the cap over his hair.

"Lose most of your body heat through your head," I offered slowly, a fact I'd learned during camping trips with my dad.

"Wonder how I look?" his shyness reasserting itself as his upturned face searched mine for reassurance.

"Smarter," I offered reflexively.

He lightly punched my arm in response. Frozen in place, we stopped moving, eyes locked before his attention was distracted by a fierce argument among the carrier pigeons settled on a low roof above us. We watched in silence as the birds rose and fell in waves until peace and pecking order rights were restored.

I hesitated to speak, not sure where to begin, what to say, in spite of the days I'd spent plotting this moment. In the end, I simply waited too long to open my heart.

"Gonna take off, Edward," he began gently to extract himself, sliding away from me. I'd been standing too close, but didn't stop him. Our auras must have become entwined during those last few minutes; I felt a physical wrench as he slowly increased the distance between us.

I opened my mouth in protest, but he held up a hand to stop me. "You alright?"

"Why, do I look sick?" My insides were heaving, though, that recent coffee a sour taste on my tongue.

Jasper halted now, measuring his response. "No, maybe just disappointed. Is it because I have to leave?"

"Why's that? Not like you're punching a clock. I have another ten minutes before shift. Not seen you in a week," I stumbled over the last there, not caring emotion had welled-up, coloring my voice.

A full minute passed before in his gentle drawl, "Let me be, hon. I'm just bad news. You don't know the half of it. You can't rescue me; people who brought me here know where I am, what I'm doing." I'd closed the gap again, managing to clasp his dirty hand without a struggle. He squeezed back before continuing.

"I chose here, this City, because I wanted to get away, same as Leah. Different reasons, same destination. Living like I am is punishment, nothing more. I'll give up, go back soon. It will all work out. You getting involved would just make it more difficult." The pause stretched on until he added, yet again, "Not safe for you."

This time the phrase seemed more ominous, a warning about an evil he knew well. He was staring over my shoulder, refusing to meet my eyes.

_Waiting __for __my __reaction._ I had to pick my way through the minefield of his emotions; one misstep and I'd blow the whole trust thing between us.

"Back to Texas?" I growled, fighting to mask my hurt. I wanted to plead my case, but the words wouldn't come. How long could the two of us stay locked in this hollow square until I could design a safety net, a soft landing for him? He'd never agree to give me the time I needed to make it work, I could see that now.

When he didn't answer, I tried again. "Is that what you mean by home? Go back to Texas?" I framed the questions careful, not expecting an answer.

"Home?" Word hung there between us, like a drop of venom on the tip of a cottonmouth's fang.

A block slipped into its slot then. Without thinking, I blurted, "Were you abused at home?" Before the sound faded from my lips, I knew I'd asked the right question.

His entire face closed up, his eyes falling to my sneakers as his fingers curled into a fist beneath my hand. "You've no idea."

Oh, Jesus, then it must have been bad. _But __how __bad?_

"Edward if you knew the details, I'd worry more about your safety than my own. I've said more than I should. Walk away; there can be no us." Sorrow had a face now; stunning blue eyes and fine features sunken from too little food, too little caring for one so young.

He forcibly jerked his hand from mine, and with a mute apology for startling me, he leaned forward to brush a kiss over my cheek.

Goodbye had never felt so sweet, my lids closing as I savored the moment in spite of my pain.

A whoosh from the unsettled pigeons brought me back to earth; I opened my eyes to the empty alley. Jasper was gone again.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author****'****s ****Note:** This is a Jodi-warning: lemon ahead :)_

**Chapter 5**

Some folks bounce back easily from disappointments.

I wouldn't be one of them.

For two weeks, I struggled to make sense of what Jasper said to me that day, why he pushed me away. My declaration had been left to wither in my silent heart. Nothing more to be said about that; just a fact.

Those first few days, I shared bits and pieces of the story with the few who knew me well. As for the rest of the world, bed sheets, bathrooms, and trash cans were my daily currency. With a paycheck all that stood between me and the streets, I would fall apart on my own time.

The bathroom mirror confirmed Edward of the moody gray-green eyes, unruly hair, and too-pale skin still existed, but I wasn't myself. The housekeepers unearthed that truth rather quickly, and sensibly began steering a wide berth around me. Their forced isolation hurt, even if I understood.

Only Carmen and Elzy refused to let me suffer in silence. They hadn't met Jasper, didn't know why his rejection affected me so, but reasons weren't their business. Carmen coddled my missing appetite with enchiladas, gorditas, and _moles_ so mouthwatering even I was tempted. Her husband was patience personified, gently herding me after subdued dinners into his meticulously kept garage for auto body repair sessions. If he noticed my attention frequently wandered, he didn't let on.

Most nights I dropped into their spare bed, victim to a deep physical fatigue. If they'd insisted I stay with them, I would've had my back up in a minute. They were more subtle about it, and it worked.

I'm ashamed to admit I spent all my free time that first week huddled against the wind in the back alley behind the kitchen. Have I mentioned I was a foolhardy optimist?

The blond never showed his face, but I saw a lot of dark-eyed Seth. The busboy didn't say much other than hello. Our breaks were spent smoking and staring off into the distance. By the end of the second week, he'd coaxed the story out of me. He was quiet when I'd finished, digesting everything I'd told him. I half-hoped he would have some idea on how to find my boy, but his sober response didn't extend beyond, "Good luck, Edward. He'll turn up eventually."

Cold comfort that. I stopped wasting time in the alley.

It hadn't seemed possible, but two Sundays after being ditched by the boy, I began thinking with the larger head again. It felt nearly as good.

And the solution came easily: if Hale was Jasper's last name, a fact I'd failed to question him on, he could be found. Two names made the search for his trail shrink from unfathomable to manageable.

Building a history for Jasper Hale might lead me to his step-sister, who'd know his whereabouts. I sucked in an excited breath; access to my weekend employer's computer set-up was going to come in handy. Completing the bartered-for web design tasks early would free up hours to begin the hunt for one runaway Texan teen. I'd work straight through, sleep a luxury I'd willing sacrifice.

Late that Sunday night, under my inspired direction the mainstream search engines began spewing stories both gruesome and heartbreaking. Runaways and missing kids were not only a source of parental anguish; they were a rich resource for human traffickers. Homeless teens without options were the traffickers' best pickings. _Please __not __Jasper_, I fervently hoped. Finding him grew more urgent.

The 1-800 law enforcement sites I jiggered were a brutal education in grim statistics—forty percent of runaway youths identified as LGBT. Abuse was another common factor inciting the victim to run. Jasper was a perfect fit.

Nearing eleven, with my regular Hotel shift set for 6:30 the next morning, I cautiously hacked into official Texas identity doc sites. Weaker site security encouraged me to take bigger risks; I kept going, rubbing my eyes to clear my blurred vision.

Until there he was: one Jasper Hale, Age 17, new driver's license issued in El Paso County, Texas over the summer. The photo showed me what my boy would look like had he not been starving himself. He was damn handsome. Looking again into his striking blue eyes eased a messy void inside. After a few minutes, I printed the photo, folding it neatly to fit my wallet.

El Paso County meant border town and not much else. But identifying the public high school for his home address could point me to his school records. The abuse he'd suffered made me wary of contacting other family members. I had no idea of the identity of his abuser, but I wasn't taking any chances. It was a slim hope, but all I had: find Leah Hale, the step sister, and he'd be nearby.

Energized by the discovery, small as it was, my mood improved. I deleted evidence of my activity, shut down the shop owner's programs, and yawning mightily, drove home in my bumper-less car. I now had a standing dinner date with Carmen and Elzy. Tomorrow, I'd ask to borrow their girls' discarded desktop after we had dinner. My pocket held a thumb drive with the program I'd written to conceal my trail should anyone come looking.

Sympathy flooded Carmen's eyes when I told them my reasons for skipping the auto repair lesson. Elzy offered to help; I had to turn him down. He knew about Jasper's runaway status; his advice had been to go to the police, file a missing persons report.

Good advice, but Jasper might already have a record for vagrancy. Worse, he might have been picked-up on soliciting charges. I had no faith police were the answer. Bringing officialdom into his life could hinder more than help.

That night I learned Leah Hale did not exist in El Paso County or anywhere else in Texas. Hale was Jasper's family name. Searching by address revealed a cancelled license for his mother, with date of death logged. I guessed Jasper had been nearly sixteen when she died. Puzzled by the absence of Texas DMV records for Leah or the stepfather listed at the address, I stopped looking to think.

The death of a mother at sixteen was a life-changing event; could it have been when the abuse began? I immediately suspected his stepfather. Frustrated I didn't have the man's name, I shifted my attention to identifying him. It was unfair to accuse a man whose name I didn't even know.

In this mixed-up country of ours, it was counties issuing state marriage licenses; there were 254 counties in Texas alone. I had Julia Hale as Jasper's mother, and nothing else. What were the odds of slipping past so many web sites, assuming I could get in, without detection? El Paso County was the obvious start, but when I began the search, without the date of the marriage, there wasn't any information to claim.

My last hope was finding spousal information on Julia Hale's death certificate. I shot craps on that one, too. Unless I'd be willing to wait twenty-five years for Texas to release the information.

I wasn't a detective, and wasn't about to hire one. I'd have to think of some other means of locating him.

Now more than ever, I was aware my boy was alone in the world, no momma to comfort him. Odd that Jasper's stepfather hadn't filed a missing persons report over the summer, but at seventeen and on his own, he was deemed a man by the great state of Texas. Law enforcement would not be looking for him.

Mid-week, Seth caught me in the break room. "Edward," he nodded in my direction, clearly assessing my mood before approaching. Satisfied I wasn't about to go Ninja Vampire on him, he angled one leg over the back of a chair to straddle it, then slid crotch forward, facing me. _Whatever __he __was __about __to __say, __it __better __be __important __after __that __display._

"I've had an idea about locating your runaway. Want to meet for a beer after work?"

"Sorry, dinner plans." Was that sudden droop to his shoulders my doing?

"Well, your friend is gay, right?" I nodded. "And he just moved here?" Seth was drumming his thumbs against the Formica-covered tabletop, an unpleasant, noisy habit.

"What's your idea, Seth?" I was becoming impatient and edgy.

Reacting to my rapidly deteriorating mood, he hurried on. "What about hanging out in gay bars to meet guys?" At my blank expression, he rushed to clarify, "Your runaway, I mean. It's what I'd do in a new city. Wait for someone to buy me a drink or whatever." _And __take __me __home_, I filled in for him. Uncanny how I read Seth at times.

"It's not likely," I growled. I'd only just remembered Seth didn't know Jasper was making money the old-fashioned way, on his knees.

"But it's worth a try, right? You'd be over the moon if you spotted him at a bar. Walk right up and talk to him."

"More likely walk right up and escort him off the premises. He's a minor. Bar owners would thank me."

Determined eyes met mine. "Ever heard of a fake I.D.?"

Round one to Seth, but, "He reeks," I offered, convinced I'd just won.

"Didn't seem to bother _you_; you took _him_ home." A jealous Seth? Thought he and I were well past the acrimony stage about Jasper.

We argued the details, but Seth had pulled me out of my slump, if in a novel sort of way. Minutes later, shaking my head at the scheme's simplicity, I gave in, if for no other reason than to spare myself Seth's disappointment.

Some ideas you know are a disaster from the get go; other times your ass has to be dragged over the rocks and slime before you get it.

Later that night, engaged in yet another endless bout of hand-sanding the Accord's panels, I reconsidered Seth's plan. Failure meant nothing but a few beers bought and a night out with other gay men. The younger man was partially right, though. A deep shiver of excitement ran over my tired body as I imagined Jasper's reaction when I laid a hand on his shoulder, purring "Been looking for you, hon," into the hot skin of his neck.

The world suddenly felt full of possibilities.

On Friday morning, we met briefly, agreeing to scout clubs a man could reach on foot from the Hotel. Three were within the City's gay district, an area notorious for reasons I'm not naming. I'd been inside two; had been a semi-regular at the one before I'd lost my last job. What had happened to that arrogant Edward whose weekends were filled with blowjobs, admiring eyes in faces I scarcely recalled, names I'd never cared enough to ask? Only a year ago, but that life belonged to a different man.

_J-Rocket _was home to the early twenties crowd. It had been my downtown bar of choice, and first place on my list. Now I hoped no one remembered me. I'd cut off my ponytail from my days as a web hotshot, stopped dying my hair black, and shaved off the scruff. Designer and colorful had been my shopping motto. Tonight's clothing was somber and cheap: jeans and a fitted black t-shirt emphasizing the new definition I'd gained. The twenty pounds I'd shed moving from a desk job to flipping mattresses was reflected in my face, molding the shape into something more serious, more adult.

Recognition seemed less likely as I thought it through. Throw in the techno beat, dazzling neon lighting and ultra-modern décor, and I could disappear into the crowd.

Seth showed on time with Jacob. Other than the height difference, they could have been twins, both dark, slight, with longish hair that curled over collars and that beautiful russet skin. Spying me, both also had too eager expressions; I knew what raw steak felt like in a roomful of vegetables. To shake the uncomfortable sensation, I excused myself after introductions to make a few circuits of the room. I'd already shown Jacob the cropped photo of Jasper I carried with me; chances were good he'd forgotten what my boy looked like by the time I left our table. Jacob was here tonight to have a good time.

In that packed room, scanning the blonds without sending out signals proved to be impossible. Didn't matter how careful I was; I'd somehow forgotten the willing outnumbered the takers at Rocket's. Had I been interested in a hook-up, I could have had my pick. I escaped the most persistent men only by recalling my manners. Seth was doing me a favor: I owed him. Making excuses, not even tempted, I headed back to our table to fulfill my obligations. The new me viewing the old me's life was unimpressed.

Tugging on Seth's sleeve, his head bent to Jacob's as they surveyed the room, I motioned to the bar, _my __round._ They flashed approving grins, and Jacob reached for me. A couple passing gave me the excuse I needed to evade his grasp. The look of reproach he leveled followed me to the bar. I dawdled there, keeping my back to my companions while awaiting my turn. After ordering a pitcher of beer, the crew tending bar proved too busy pouring drinks to give my cropped photo of Jasper much notice. Even if some had seen Jasper, the constant press of bodies against the bar spoke against anyone not a regular making an impression.

Equanimity restored, two hours and several rounds later we left to try _Boots & __Spurs_. The second club's designers had filled the inside of the bar with stacked collections of patterned, worn boots. All variety of spurs covered the entry hall. It was a Texas hill country theme. Waiters in sleeveless vests and jeans offered cowboys hats to collect cash and credit cards; even the male performers looked wholesome and corn-fed. The _Boots_ crowd wasn't too rowdy; men here were country music fans a good decade older than at _Rocket__'__s_. Women were more noticeable in the press of less-than-perfect bodies and clearly welcome. I could imagine Jasper feeling comfortable here; I knew I did.

With the DJ playing a danceable mix of Shania, Martina, Faith, and Carrie, these boys were looking for a partner, dancing or otherwise. Perched on a stool now, I scanned the crowd for signs of Jasper as I quietly sang along with the country music queens about longing, betrayal, and survival. Their lyrical anguish became my own; I wondered fitfully if I'd ever find someone to love.

When I saw a third had joined Seth's party on the elevated deck, fairer locks among the dark, for just a second my heart leapt, even as logic reasserted itself. _Couldn__'__t __be __him_.

Grudgingly stomping back to the table to meet the new guy, I saw the three were demolishing a tower of Vodka shots. The evening's beers rumbled a warning in my stomach, but it got ignored. _Been __too __long __since __I__'__d __had __much __fun._ I'd change that real quick.

"Who's this?" I nodded toward the newcomer before throwing back the peachy shot Seth had shoved into my hand. _How __did __he __know __I __favored __peaches?_

First shot went down so easy, I reached for a second.

"Meet Rose," Jake offered with an evil grin as he watched my eyes come to rest on the new man in our midst. He got a hard shove from "Rose" who flipped heavy blonde bangs out of his eyes, looking me up and down before flicking a glance over at Seth. Unperturbed by the assessment, I plunked both empty shot glasses upside down on the bar, waiting for this to sort itself.

"Elbow up on the bar here, Jake," Carl ordered. "We'll settle this, best two out of three."

I never had much interest in macho displays, but I stuck around, perversely rooting for Jake.

Blond won, hands down. Seth was consoling a shaken Jake to keep him from knocking over the last of the vodkas when a husky giggle drew my eyes back to the arm wrestling champion.

"Already arguing over you, and we haven't been introduced. Carl," he exaggerated the last consonant, his pink tongue curled to expose the fleshy muscle's underbelly. Slightly dizzy, I leaned closer for a better look; arrogant blonds always drew me in. Man was my age, with dancing green eyes and an appraising stare. Tall, well-muscled without screaming gym bunny, dude was a dead ringer for a cute gay director who'd won an Oscar. We were equals. Maybe too much so.

"Edward," I offered.

"I know." Licking his lips, Carl cocked his head in question at the dance floor. "Want to, gorgeous?" There was no mistaking his meaning; my sketchy dance moves would not impair his enjoyment.

Before I could decline, the gleam in his eyes showing he suspected he'd won me for now, a sleek, dark body pushed in between us, blocking my view. Blinking wildly, it was Jake, holding a murky purple shot to my lips and playfully tilting my head back, fingers tugging at my hair. I obligingly opened my lips, the old Edward as usual swallowing whatever was on offer. He didn't bother to set the drained shot glass down before landing a fierce, probing kiss. "Faith Hill made me do that," he confessed after coming up for air. My hands had fastened on the firm, tight globes of his ass, how I don't know. Drinks aside, I felt as if I'd just sustained a blow between the eyes. My nuts were drawn up like we three might be interested in further Jake-type explorations.

But Carl didn't care for losing his prize. "Mine," he growled loudly, interrupting the innocent game Jake and I had begun to play, easily extracting me from Jake's sloppy embrace. "Dance," he ordered, pointing me to the dance floor and giving a determined push. I plucked the last green vodka shot from the empty tray of glasses before giving in. Two-stepping was innocent enough. Light-headed, I barely registered the grin on the faces swirling past as I cautiously navigated the endless walk, my knees inexplicably stripped of their strength.

And had I just downed three shots? Or four?

Those shots easily trampled my original plans; judging by our dancing, Carl and I were going straight to perdition, pass the vodka and clear the floor, boys.

Carl might've carved his name on my ass along the way; I wouldn't have noticed or cared. The twins tried to cut in, make it a foursome, but Carl had claimed me, groin-to-groin, bulge nudging bulge through our button-fronted jeans. If I'd come out tonight up for a good fucking, Carl was my man. His tongue should have been registered—how could he have had it in my mouth same time as in my ear?

Hammered as I was, him calling me "Red" told me he didn't know or care who I was anymore. Eyes forest dark and dangerous, he was feral in his desire. Man had a thousand hands. Only my threat to unzip and piss on his boots convinced him to release me. He could see I was just drunk enough to do it, too.

Cutting out on annoying Carl and the others wasn't more than a hazy notion when a random window left unlocked in the men's room beckoned. Carl's impatient little kicks against the locked bathroom door had been grating on my nerves. Crawling out the window loomed up like the best idea of the night, the drop to the street an easy one. Landing effortlessly on my feet, I managed to lurch back against the brick wall, soundly cracking my head. Dazed but upright, I half ran, half stumbled through the empty streets toward the final club of the night, a dark storefront illuminated only by a neon _Roy__'__s_.

A block from the door, my brain called a halt. The first and last time I'd been inside six years earlier, the jumbled press of much older men in ill-fitted leather, youngsters in fetish costumes, and oiled muscle-boys had been intimidating. At twenty-two, the gyrating sweaty bodies overlaid by a deafening rap and heavy metal sound had me gasping for air. Panicked, I'd rudely pushed my way to the bar for a beer only to be hit on by a man twice my age and size, wearing a mask. A baby zebra among the cheetahs, I'd been tempting fate by entering Roy's alone that night. I chugged my beer and was out the door in no time flat, experiment with the dark side over.

A club was a club-they had a tendency to go downhill, not improve. This one catered to a very specific customer. There wasn't another place like it in the City for gay men of a certain age. But I had changed. Mature now, and secure in my sexuality, my inner baby zebra was a roaring Wildebeest. Watch out croco-diles!

Vaguely aware that something wasn't right with my imagery, my scrambled thoughts were thrown off course by a faint "Sorry."

Quietly mumbled as Seth slipped into place beside me. My head snapped up at his forlorn apology; there was no need for an explanation. Knew he'd set me up with Carl and understood why. Still let him have it; I was way too old to be led by my junior.

"Why'd you do that?" I sputtered and watched him shrink further into himself. "You agreed to search for Jasper, not peddle my ass. Carl was here to get laid. Just who was it led the man to believe I was a sure thing?"

Awaiting an explanation, I took in the humble set of his shoulders and his drawn expression. The angry words froze in my mouth as a sharp ribbon of embarrassment twisted in my gut. I'd been slow in recognizing the signs, but there they were: Seth was acting like a young man accustomed to being on the wrong end of verbal abuse. He must have caught on long ago to keep his mouth shut when it happened.

"Forget it," I hissed, massaging my stinging eyes and guiltily wondering if I'd ever get through this night.

Seth's tremulous voice reminded me of another. "I screwed up, Edward."

"Not important." My voice had dropped into a deeper register.

"Forgive me?"

"No, forgive _me_, Seth," sung out clear and crisp before he fell into the circle of my arms. We made up, hugging tightly. Smaller than Jasper, Seth felt solid and had a fresh, clean scent. After my year of self-imposed celibacy, I'd held three men tight tonight. But none of them had felt right.

Pulling away, I kept an arm around Seth's slender waist. "You up for scouting Roy's with me?"

Nodding, he blustered about killing time in the street while the club door beckoned. Brave words I didn't believe.

"It's no place for pretty boys to enter lightly," I half-joked, recalling again my near panic the first time I'd visited.

He grimaced. "Say that! God, I don't want to end up as some biker's bitch for the night." He shivered at the thought. We both knew the rumors about the private rooms at the club. For the right amount of money, it was said, a man could get just about anything at Roy's.

"Bikers might be the sanest dudes in that joint," I offered, thinking _It__'__s __just __a __club_. No different from any other business establishment.

"I'm so wasted—bigger dude push me, I'm going down, legs open." Seth's eyes had gone wide.

I took pity on him. "You needn't go with me; just wait outside. We'll walk back to your apartment. I'd never abandon you to a stranger's kinky fantasy."

He was nodding gratefully when his whole body began shaking. Before I could assist, his legs went out from under him, nearly pulling me down as well. From his position on his back, he raised his head to give me a goofy grin. "Rude to leave Boots without saying goodbye, Edward." Seth seemed to be off on a tangent. "Ditching Jacob and Carl was mean."

I didn't feel the least bit of remorse about it and said so.

"Forget Roy's," Seth was slurring his words now. "Let's go back to my place. You stay over if you're as drunk as I am." I wasn't falling down drunk, but I didn't reject the offer out of hand. Left unsaid was our shared assessment Roy's was safer in the company of a big group.

Before I could agree, two figures came strolling up through the curtain of night to step within our pool of light.

"Red," exclaimed Carl, false merriment in his eyes. Man had no ability to mask his pissed attitude. "Jake and I been looking for you. Ready to go in, search for your teen runaway?" he sneered. He shoved Jake towards Seth as he was speaking, and reaching for my arm, made once again to stake his claim on Edward. "Guys who look like us better stick together in this place. I'm not dropping my shorts for anyone here tonight." He winked at me, but there was no friendliness in the gesture.

Of the four of us, he was the most clear-eyed. Jake was tilting to the left, Seth was down for the count on the sidewalk, and my legs felt numb, eyes gritty from squinting over the blur that kept surfacing.

Carl stooped to right the helpless Seth before confidently herding the three of us inside, erstwhile collie deaf to our sheep-like bleats of protest.

I was soon drinking straight vodka I couldn't recall ordering. We four were crowded into a booth in sight of the stage, the men nearby dressed more street than scary. Our bored waiter in skin-tight vinyl shorts even offered a menu; Roy's had begun serving hot snacks. That fact niggled at me.

Smoking bans weren't too strictly enforced here. Elated, I shook one out of the pack, preparing to join in. "Not tonight, not yet. I don't like the taste," Carl insisted as he flicked the unlit cigarette out of my mouth when I reached for a lighter. I whined my annoyance; I'd wanted that smoke.

"Follow orders, Edward: no smoking." Bossy had finally remembered my name. "Stage show begins at midnight with a new performer; he's a looker." Carl's face was so close, I hardly managed to tuck my drink between us. I discreetly drew it to my lips to stop his frontal assault.

Thwarted, Carl's warm breath traced the curve of my jaw. "Want to take the edge off?" Not waiting for my answer, he aggressively tongued over the sensitive pad of my ear, hand eventually drifting to the front of my jeans, checking, before jerking away. "Thought so," he crowed happily, his triumph impossible to miss as he caught my wrists and began shuffling us to the back of Roy's.

Not the first time my cock had betrayed me; wouldn't be the last. I cast a quick glance around the crowd for a small blond head, but my eyes could've been crossed for all the good it did. I'd drunk too much and not eaten enough.

Knew what was coming. Carl had cut me out of the great herd; this time I'd brought my own cheetah. I was still that same baby zebra after all.

Wasn't long before a heavy door slammed hard behind me. The dark alley loomed, muffled cries and whispers replacing the club's booming sound system. No surprise when my back was shoved up against a scarred wall surface, and nimble fingers began working the jean buttons open. By now, I could have identified Carl's scent from a three-day old shirt of his. The essence of Carl filled my nostrils; more intimate holes were likely next.

I had to give it to him: Carl was efficient. Early on I'd pegged him for a dentist; impossible to avoid and always in control. Feeling more numb than anything, I assisted him by sucking in my nothing gut as he began working the heavy jeans and briefs down off of my hips. Cool air hit my exposed skin; I didn't care to look up to find the stars in the night sky. That was an activity redolent of more innocent adventures.

My ardent seducer wasted no time on the preliminaries; dude wanted his mouth on my dick. I was weak. I simply let go all restraint, moaning at the deep relief of slipping into that warm, juicy welcome. He soaked the tip of my cock, deftly working his tongue between the slit to repeatedly push the fleshy halves apart. Jesus! _That __hurt__s so __good._

Lifting my balls from the confines of the jeans, he gave them a gentle fondling before tugging a bit too much, letting go before I could complain. He kept to the routine, his grip on me first hard and then soft, a mixture of unfettered delight tempered by unqualified misery: it was a refrain I well knew.

So long without another's touch, the blowjob was ten times better than I remembered. There'd be an ugly aftermath that would likely involve me face forward against the wall, legs spread, but I was feeling philosophical. _Fair__'__s __fair._

Way too fast, visions of another's face began creeping under my closed lids. My roving fingers found Carl's thick blond bangs. I yanked. He groaned, the sound sliding up and down the length he was so expertly tongue fucking. Just the reaction I wanted.

I kept yanking; he kept groaning.

That was all it took; I came with an embarrassing scream, bare assed and thrusting madly into Carl's greedy orifice as if it was made expressly for my pleasure. At the moment, doubted he'd disagree. He greedily swallowed my cum like it was an everyday thing, fingers dipping first into his mouth to share some of my spunk with me.

I licked them clean, no hesitation.

"Red, you are one hot piece of shit. Didn't know a man could shoot so fast. I'm honored." Carl's husky voice in my ear meant he had climbed back up; I hadn't noticed. Christ on a stick, my dick was tender—wished he'd take his fingers off it so I could tuck in. Cheeks were getting chilled.

Opening my eyes to push him back away from me and ruin his fun, they fell on a familiar face. One I should have expected to find here in this dark alley behind Roy's, if I'd been using my noggin. Wasted as I was, hard-won maturity allowed me to see the wanna-be dangerous club for what it was: seedy, desperate, and unable to hide its humiliation in the face of failed dreams. Just the sort of welcoming shores a discarded boy like Jasper would wash up on.

And there he stood, less than a foot away. My boy looked none-too-happy to see me, dressed as he was in odd gear and sporting a leather collar. He'd been silently watching us, waiting for the big finale.

"Eddie?" he asked uncertainly. "That you?" I nodded, momentarily too relieved at finding him to speak. Clearing his throat, he half-whispered, "Come to see the show?"

Carl's head whipped around at the sound of Jasper's voice. "Tinkerbell!" he yelled with glee just before I decked the man. Carl went down with an extremely satisfying thump. He looked to be out cold, I remarked with honest satisfaction.

Shaking out my aching fist, I glanced up to see most of the other 'couples' were putting some distance between us and them. I didn't mind; I would have done the same.

Situation was awkward; wasn't sure what to say next. Bought some time adjusting my clothes. Jasper definitely was acquainted with Carl: how would he react to my impulsive knock-out? I could have used a clue, but he didn't utter a sound, just waited for me to finish fastening the buttons on my jeans.

Job complete, uncertain where I stood but unable to stay my hand, fingertips settled on my boy's delicately-shaped chin. His steady blue eyes never left my face as I tenderly traced the upper curve of his smeared lips. Could have stood there all night doing nothing else, but eventually Carl would come to.

"Sorry you had to see that, baby. Let's get out of here," I offered, hoping he felt the same as me.

The joy that filled his eyes and transformed his features was all the answer I'd ever need.

- 00000 -

**Author's ****Note:** _Thanks __for __your __kind __comments, __alerts, __and __favorites. __I __will __reply __to __reviewers __this __week, __so sorry __for __the __delay. __With __the __holidays, __next __update __won__'__t __be __until __after __the __25__th__. __xoxoxo_


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** _It's 2012. Hope those Mayans got their dates mixed up._

**Chapter 6**

No gilded prince in his empyrean could have been happier. The very person whose loss had colored my thoughts and endlessly stolen my sleep stood subdued before me, easily submitting to my gentle touch. His handsome face was fixed on mine, seriously drinking me in while my offer hung fire between us. He shifted his hips and flexed his jaw. The tips of his fingers rubbed absently against the material covering his thigh. My hand dropped away.

"What exactly do you want from me, Edward?"

"What do you have to give?"

He shook his head in mute reply.

Frozen in place, leery of moving, I watched as his breath vaporized in the cold air, watched as emotions I couldn't follow played across his expressive face. Whatever he decided, one fact stood above all others: _it would hurt too much to let him go a second time._

When his features finally settled, I didn't like what I read there. Resignation. Sadness. Loss. He was going to turn me down. I shut my eyes as his words rained down like white-hot shrapnel, ending with, "I can't even tell you why the answer is no."

"Doesn't sound as though you like your answer much," I finally found the strength to reply. His look was bleak; I took it as a confirmation.

From somewhere deep inside, a barely recalled confidence sputtered to life. If one of us needed to act to get beyond this impasse, I'd play guinea pig. Right or not, I wasn't letting go of him without an effort. Ever mindful of my runaway's tendency to bolt, I cautiously motioned fingers for him to come closer. Needed him to align his slight, chilly body with mine. We'd see then how he felt about us. See if I couldn't melt his resolve. I had a full decade on him; didn't need him to protect me.

His nod of relief had me soaring, even more so when the calculated inching forward I'd expected didn't happen. Instead he surprised me by damn near flinging himself into my arms in his eagerness. Turned out my boy'd been craving the closeness same as me. It was a moment to savor, his scent familiar, completely erasing Carl's from my senses.

My arms encircled the tops of his thin shoulders, thinking to rub my cheek into the fair, wispy hair, to wallow there until I was sated. Instead had to tamp down the anxiety that bloomed when squeezing him confirmed the sad effects of his many deprivations. Baby needed to eat more. _If only he'd agree to come home with me…_

Relaxing so our foreheads met, I relished the return of the expansive feeling in my chest I felt around him. Hard-won knowledge of the last three painful weeks had erased any doubts; my boy was something far more precious to me than a _friend_.

His eyes widened before my lips settled on the lush curves of his mouth, head tilted to accommodate me. We kissed as easily, as intimately, as if we'd been doing this for years. As if, in another universe, Jasper Hale was my natural partner, and I his.

The very thought heated my blood and fueled my need.

Our joining became by turns sweet and hungry, fierce and consuming. He met me on every level; taking care of him from here on out would be no hardship.

Secure in the circle of my arms, Jasper stepped in closer still, near-starved for full body contact. Touch was what babies on up coveted, and my baby was on fire for it. Hollows, swells, planes—we two lined up perfectly. Blood pooling, our kiss stretched on-and-on. He parted his lips, and I took him up on his offer. His tongue tasted so Jasper: fragile youth and too-soon learned adult truths fledged into his exquisite flavor. Against all odds, I hardened once more in his embrace, his own erection solid and cradled against my belly. I was thinking_ bed_ and hoping he'd agree.

When we broke for air, it was because of me, choked on feelings I didn't know how to handle. Felt like if I didn't tell him soon, I'd implode with it. His eyelids were fluttering, or he'd of caught the panic on my face as I frantically fought for words that wouldn't scare him off. "Boy, did I ever miss you. Never dreamed I'd find you again." His deep blues flew open, joy sparking in response like the stars twinkling in the sky above us. The flawless quality of the moment flooded me with a gut-deep want. I thirsted for similar moments, wouldn't be satisfied with less than years of them. And we'd just shared a kiss that seemed to point to his conceding the point.

Relaxed and feeling more certain of him, my mouth chose to once again run ahead of my brain. I'd earlier been studying his outfit, nylon tights ragged at the ankles being the worst of it, and wondering about the purpose of the leather strapping. So what I came out with was not my scary declaration, but a question on the tip of my tongue since seeing him. "Now tell me please just why-the-fuck my boy's wearing green tights and lipstick?"

Knew before I finished it was exactly the wrong thing to say.

The gentle, pliable young soul that was Jasper disappeared in an instant. In his place, a snarling teenager was formed.

"What's it to you?" he snapped and tried to yank away in a hot flare of temper. Unsure if his reaction was anger or embarrassment, I wasn't about to confess why everything about him was my sole concern.

Bigger, I defiantly held on tightly to his narrow waist, the straps and buckles girding his upper body digging into me, catching on chest hair where my shirt had been pulled up earlier as he squirmed away.

"Harnesses are for horses, not people," I offered, my tone mild and nonjudgmental over his huffing. "What say we get this off of you?" I wasn't complaining; the leather left exposed acres of his too cool skin to eager exploration even as Jasper bristled at the question. My fingertips ached to trace over the two pinched ovals decorating his downy front. Bad timing, but I couldn't help myself.

He sucked in a breath, not answering, his glare sufficient to let me know what he thought about my line of questioning.

A doomed ship, I couldn't seem to avoid the iceberg looming ahead. "And why's Carl calling you Tinkerbell?" Thoroughly irritated with me by then, he began viciously smacking away hands fumbling with the buckles at his waist. I stopped it by pulling him close enough he couldn't do much more than wiggle between my legs, growling at him, "Settle down, baby. Just tell me, please. Can't be all that bad."

Head down, fight over, Jasper visibly shrank in my arms like a hooked fish, puffing his cheeks in-and-out in rapid succession before mumbling a barely distinct, "Disney?"

"Like the movies?" Convinced I must have misheard.

"Like the character," he finished in a voice so small it damn near broke my heart all over again.

"And you are dressed like an elf…."

Quick as a wink, he corrected me. "A fairy."

The irony of his disclosure was not lost on me.

"A fairy? Do you have wings?" I winced, already fingering him for the Club's midnight entertainment Carl had spoken of at our table. My runaway was a looker, alright. Worse, he was on display for every sexually frustrated butthead buying and nursing a drink for the pleasure of fucking Jasper raw with his eyes. _Mine alone,_ I could have fumed.

And what happened after the show? I tucked that one away, content with not knowing the answer right then. My imagination was painful enough.

Jasper's blush crept up to his cheeks, plain to see even in the darkened alley. "Wings are in the dressing room; they hook over the harness straps." His voice remained steady as he outlined the work-a-day dynamics of his costume to my disbelieving ears.

"And Carl works at Roy's club as well? That how you know him?" I spat the questions, hating myself as I did so.

"Rose?" At my raised eyebrows, he clarified, "Rose Red. From _Snow White & Rose Red_. He's not performing tonight."

Disney, drag, a minor, and a bossy bitch of a manwhore; who wouldn't feel like Alice at the witching hour? Forgiving of just about every alternative act one could name, short of bestiality and minors, I simply exploded at these new revelations.

"How in holy hell did you get mixed up in this?" Shaking him seemed a good idea, thoroughly upset as I was by these new developments. This thing he was into might be beyond me to sort. I had formed a fuzzy plan to get him off the streets, starting with him agreeing to go home with me only to be turned down earlier. Where did we go next?

Jasper retreated into defensiveness again with, "Told you weeks ago this wasn't going to work between us." Didn't I remember it.

The sick feeling in the pit of my stomach grew as he pointedly pulled away to casually poke a socked toe at Carl's neck. The man I'd impulsively laid out earlier issued a final dramatic groan and sat up with dizzying alacrity. "Why'd you have to flatten me, Red?" Carl whined, holding his head and shooting daggers in my direction. "Tink, how do you know this _cock-sucker?"_

_Another dash of irony from the man above to make my night complete_.

I sunk to my knees, weakly protesting, "I'm not a cock-sucker," before adding under my breath, "I'm in love with him." No denying the overpowering wave of melancholy finally toppling me was part and parcel of the oceans of alcohol I'd consumed all night. Carl wasn't the culprit; it was all Jasper and his bad choices ruining my reunion fantasies.

Moment had seemed ripe for a declaration of love, but then again, I was a virgin at it. Some could say I might have chosen better. Still, it was done.

Jasper didn't answer Carl directly, didn't let on like he'd heard me. The two of them had faced off above me, Carl with hands on hips. "What's he to you? He was my date till he popped me one." Before I could deny it, Carl let loose with a loud "Whoa!" Slapping one palm against the other, he'd made the connection. "Jacob says Red here's been looking for a runaway teen. Guess that fills in some missing background on you. Does Arrow know?"

My boy stumbled a bit as Carl's words hit home. I wasn't averse to crawling to my feet and slugging Carl again, even if my legs were leaden stumps. Told him so and earned a snort of anger from the bossy bitch.

"Shut it, Rose—don't go to Arrow with this. He's not who you think." Over Carl's barely believable denials of outing him to this Arrow, Jasper rushed forward with, "Aren't you going to help me get him inside? Customers are out here," he reminded him, gesturing to the clumps of men who'd pulled back earlier. The taller blond grudgingly agreed, exaggeratedly twisting his torso to loosen his spine like I was some five hundred pound slab of beef weightlifting challenge. Now that he'd convinced Carl to help, sly boy wasn't above taking his revenge on my behalf. "And lots of witnesses here would ID you as the cocksucker, Rose," he'd finished up to my guffaw. "Myself included."

Thin as he was, he'd hooked hands under my shoulders while goading Carl, struggling to lift me himself. "Get up, Eddie," he urged in my ear. "Need to rescue you from this icebox of an alley."

"We're alley people, baby. Alley cats," I suggested, offering to stay there propped against the wall if I was too much trouble. "A bowl of cream, and I'll be fine," I assured them, my sick sense of humor kicking in.

Jasper's frustrated giggle tickled my cheek as he continued to struggle with getting me standing. Wasn't possible; I could have told him if he'd just asked.

Guess it was inevitable with two of the Club's performers at my side, all of us acting civil again, Roy's patrons felt safe enough to loudly celebrate who they had in their midst. "Twinkerbell," came the eager cries from a small cluster of men who'd recognized him. "Ready to fly tonight?" "Peel those tights for us," one particularly obnoxious one jeered.

Jasper gave me a miserable look, the regret I saw in his eyes sending a little spasm of pain through my heart. "I've got no choice here, Eddie. It's the only way to stay safe," he mumbled. Didn't understand a word of what he was saying and couldn't ask. Mouth wasn't working right just then. The weariness from all those miserable nights fretting over Jasper's whereabouts was laying claim to my body.

Carl chose that moment to interject. "He's wasted, Tink. Let me get Red, Jake and the other one out of there. You go ahead. Do your set. I'll take the boys home."

That reminded me I'd left Seth in the creepy club by his lonesome; his friend Jacob was probably face down in a pool of beer by now, maybe both of them were. Just another promise I'd broken to a friend.

Before I could wrench away, Carl easily hefted me where Jasper had failed.

One blond confronted another, suspicion thick in the younger one's query, "Why're you helping me?"

Carl could have answered him; I was too sleepy to notice. Having second thoughts about handing me over to Snow White's homie, my boy reluctantly guided us to the performers' dressing room. Carl argued with Jasper the entire way as I realized I was finally seeing Roy's back rooms, too wasted to enjoy it. Dumped by Carl on a well-padded chair, his deep voice droned on. Carl was the type to never take no for an answer, but he wasn't winning this round.

"Doesn't matter. I don't want Eddie to see my show. He can't be here." Jasper's voice rang sharp and certain in the unheated dressing room. The mirror on the wall was cracked and dirty, the lighting too dim to illuminate more than the center of the room.

Carl was shaking his head in disgust. "It can't work, Tink. He'll find out soon enough. They always claim to support us, yet never really understand." Carl's chagrin was genuine, if too late to make a difference to me. He'd always be a prick. Still I was tired of the charades, tired of not being privy to the full story.

Simply tired, I closed my eyes to better concentrate on their words.

And woke to Jasper gently shaking my shoulder. "Sorry," I slurred. "Not been sleeping, and drank too much. I'll rest here a minute. You coming home with me or not?"

Forlorn face gave him away before he mentioned the cab. When I began to object, to plead, even to beg he come along, his eyes slipped closed as if in pain. I made to grab the stiff bill of his blue and white Dodgers cap, wanting to touch his hair again, and he knocked my hand away. "Sorry," he murmured, refusing to look at me.

The rejection hurt worse than it should have.

"I belong to someone else now, Eddie. He'll never let me go."

"The bullseye's dude?"

He grimaced. "Better you've forgotten his name. He's a friend, business partner of my stepdad's. Not someone to cross, ever."

"Water," I rasped, thinking to stall him, use the time to bolster my arguments for us walking out together. Open bottle was in my hands before I could react. Knew only I didn't want to leave him, not like this. Said so after taking a sip.

Reminded him again he could be living with me, safe and warm.

"I've got a place now. Moved out of my step-sisters set-up."

Couldn't help wondering if he wasn't lying. Would he be back on the streets if he was working at Roy's?

"Give me the address, then; you know where I live."

He hesitated, mournful if I read him right. "Can't. You visiting would be a disaster." Before I could complain, he laid two fingers across my mouth. "Shush. Too much there you shouldn't see. I'm only telling you this because I know you won't remember tomorrow." He soothed a warm hand over my forehead, evoking memories of the night he spent with me. "Little Mermaid borrowed the last of my aspirin or I'd make you take some right now."

"Don't want to leave you, boy," I croaked, a clogged painful feeling constricting my throat.

Jasper bent closer to my face, mouth soft and loose. I knew we were going to kiss. _Kiss goodbye_, if he had his way.

Shameless, I closed my eyes again to nothing except the sound of pounding on the room's door. Teen's attention had been diverted from me as a male voice announced the taxi.

"Time to go, Eddie. Don't come looking for me. I'll be moved around after tonight anyway, Rose's mouth will make sure of that," he finished bitterly.

Burly dude was hoisting me on his shoulder before I could formulate an answer. Cab ride was a blur until the driver helped me up the stairs, brushing off questions about who paid the fare.

Drained, I sank into the same sheets from that morning, a different man from when I'd awakened twenty hours earlier. I'd have to take the bus to get my car in the morning, remember to call and apologize to Seth for abandoning him when I'd pledged otherwise. I whimpered, my head spinning, empty bottle of water still clutched in my hand, too beat to disrobe.

_Christ almighty, what a night!_

Turning over to flip off the bedside lamp, a crinkling noise had me scrabbling for the source. Found it in my jean pocket, lined yellow notepaper hastily torn from the pad. I unfolded it to find just a name I believed was his stepsister's, and I knew.

Knew Jasper hadn't given up on me yet.

Knew whatever he was into was dangerous.

Knew there was nothing I could do about it tonight.

Fell asleep on my side, pillow crushed tightly to my heart.

- 00000 -

**Author's Note:** _I apologize to J.M. Barrie and the Brothers Grimm for the temporary misappropriation of their MC's names. (Won't happen again.) Thank you very much for all your comments, alerts, and favorites—still need to catch up. Ch 7 will post next weekend_.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** _Sorry for the delayed posting. Here's a longish chapter by way of apology. (Do I hear an "awwwww.")_

**Chapter 7**

_Saturday morning:_

Awoke after my night of heedless debauchery to find a familiar band of deadly rat toxins homesteading in my mouth. _Serves me right, _I thought, holding my breath in hopes of suffocating them, but a faceless sibyl by the name of _Leah Clearwater_ intervened. "Ass out of bed, Edward," she crooned. "Ass out of bed, now," she soon shrilled when her crooning proved a bust, deftly registering a mental kick upside my conk.

Holding my head against the pain, I whimpered my protests into an empty, joyless bedroom before staggering to the bowl.

One palm directing traffic, the other blessedly flat against the wall, keeping me vertical, I tried hard not to think too closely about recent events. Couldn't forget Carl and his wicked mouth, though. "Traitor," I admonished my lecherous dick. "Wasn't who you really wanted."

Dick just went right on grinning and gushing. Remorse never had been a particularly strong dick trait. _Maybe I ought to change that. _

The comfort of my bed a brief reprieve from the forthcoming agonies of upright travel, I circled back to the main question. Why'd Jasper scrawl his step-sister's name on a slip of paper, and wait until I dozed off in his dressing room to shove the thing in my jeans?

Best answer was Jasper wanted me to find him again, wanted us. He couldn't act on it yet, but want it he did. Nothing else made any sense.

Heartened, I smoothed out the crumpled slip of paper on the night table, not above sniffing it for a whiff of my boy, but there was nothing. _Expect nothing and you won't be disappointed,_ as my dad used to say.

Slowly rubbing one out in the shower to as many faceless x-rated memories as I could summon, the erotic montage became _image interruptus_ as unwelcome flashes of me poking those gossamer fairy wings I spied last night intruded. Disgusted, I eventually gave up, feeling dirtier than when I'd climbed over the bathtub rim. I skipped shaving, my inner streetdweller subconsciously approving of the auburn jaw stubble leaving me looking rough and dangerous around the edges.

Being able to dress myself without calling for reinforcements seemed a personal triumph, even if breakfast consisted mostly of handfuls of stale pretzels I stuffed in assorted pockets. Stomach churning, most of them got dumped in a messy heap by the porch steps for local birds wintering in our area. The bus stop was a fuzzy shelter far in the distance when I hit the sidewalk, but no bus meant no car. I girded my loins and grimly set off. It would be an hour before I could get online. Once again, I thanked Elzy for the gift he had given me. Working a few weekends was a small price to pay for my independence.

Usually i was beyond hungry to manipulate the software tools for the owner's web design project , but today? The screech of nails on chalkboard, times ten, would about sum it up. Between chewing aspirins and downing several bottles of water, most of the morning's work required a re-do. Hard to give good design when you are worried about the safety and whereabouts of one blond, blue-eyed runaway sporting the unlikely alias of _Twinkerbell_.

Jumps and cookies couldn't hold a candle to my designs for heading back to Roy's tonight and asking around about the boy's whereabouts. Figured there were many ways I could drop Jasper's name into a conversation, let on I was friends with Arrow. But Jasper's warning the man not being who Carl thought held me back. Hated the need for self-restraint, but knew I'd be smarter to start with Leah, the step-sister. If she didn't know where Jasper was living, I'd make contact with Jasper's step-dad, Arrow's partner, and maybe pick up the trail of abuse along the way.

Back of my mind, I was feeling Arrow as Jasper's abuser, not Leah's dad.

Design work drudgery behind me, web searches found Leah and an older Paul Clearwater holding driver's licenses with Las Cruces's addresses, a forty minute drive north of El Paso. Las Cruces was a small town near the border with a large Mexican and Native American population. I figured the Clearwaters for Navajo. Sounded like a Dine name to my Show-Me-State ears.

Even better, girl'd just applied for a new license with a local address. Excitement had me pounding the table housing the shop owner's desktop before the screen jumped and went blank. Didn't matter: the street name was emblazoned on my brain cells now.

Leah's building was in an area of the City I knew well, so this online-hacker spotted it immediately. A converted two story house, nicer than expected, her place was dark and silent, no one home at ten on a Saturday night. Nothing better to do, I sunk down on the porch steps, legs kicked out in front of me, elbows riding the cold concrete. Butt cheeks were aching before an hour'd passed. The illusion of warmth came from a strong yellowed overhead light. Least the millars weren't buzzing me in November. It had been a long day but I wasn't the least bit tired.

Could have easily jiggered their porch door lock where faded wicker chairs made an inviting semi-circle, but I'd better manners. Didn't want to get off on the wrong foot, either, and didn't need to examine the reasons why.

Leah and boyfriend showed after midnight to find me snoring, head cocked against a wooden beam supporting the porch overhang. My sprawled frame was ample indication to them I'd been waiting for awhile.

"Help you?" Reservation accent on the last word; male voice in my ear was firm and kind.

"Leah? Leah Clearwater?" I mumbled, rubbing my face and signaling I wanted to stretch out the kinks. Boyfriend stepped aside to give me space. Thanked him to receive his nod of acknowledgement. Definitely Native American, but not likely Navajo nation at nearly seven feet. Took in his buzz cut, tattoos and the visible piercings before turning back to meet the female's questioning gaze.

"That's me. Who might you be?" No artifice about her, Leah was a plain girl, short hair, medium height, with Latina features and a strong, confident air. She was older than Jasper, but I had a good five years on her. Her jeans and sweatshirt were warm and colorful, practical for a Midwestern fall. Didn't have a suspicious bone in her body; didn't blame her, with the mountain standing at attention by her side. Looked like he could have snapped me in two and gone on inside to catch a little TV, not breaking a sweat.

"Edward. Friend of Jasper's." My hand was out, palm open, not sure if she would shake or follow custom. The boyfriend chose to take my hand. "Embry," his engulfing grip revealing both work calluses and evidence of genes from the sky gods that must have birthed him.

"Don't know you, Edward. Jasper send you? He in trouble again?" She'd moved back another step, trying to see more of me, judge my appearance and drop me into a known category, such as safe or scumbag or simply _other. Hoped I passed scrutiny._

"Looking for him." Light laughter issued from me. "Saw him last night, but still lost him. He's got something of mine." Didn't fill them in it was my heart he was carrying around. Didn't know if they'd be sympathetic or not to the pair of us.

She and Embry exchanged significant glances ending in a slight shake of her head. Wisht I'd read minds—loved to have known what they were thinking. Couple shorthand always got to me, reminded me I'd never had a long-term lover I'd known so well. Carmen and Elzy had it in spades, too. Felt the sadness welling up again, but pushed on through it. Bawling on Leah's doorstep like a lunatic wouldn't get me inside. I hopped a bit waiting for the verdict.

"Jasper's choices have confused us all. Sorry to hear you are mixed up in it. Maybe I owe a friend the opportunity to hear the truth of it, before you get too involved." She stopped, and Embry moved past me to unlock the screen door. He'd touched my shoulder passing me, letting me know I was okay to follow him. Stepped lively before minds were changed.

We sat up in front of the apartment on couches bought new, no signs of the roommates. When I asked about them, told me they'd moved out.

"Did Jasper leave before they moved?" I asked, gratefully accepting the deep red mug of warmed apple juice Leah offered. I wondered that they didn't offer beer on a Saturday night, being young and single in a Midwestern city, but none of my affair. Apple juice slid down just as easy.

Leah and Embry nodded in stereo, so I guess I had to believe them. "You start, Edward," Leah suggested, expression serious as she snuggled against Embry opposite me, her hand absently caressing a suede pillow. I speculated there were other places her hand was missing. "Let me hear what you know."

"Not much." I winced before adding, "Ran across your step-brother in front of a dumpster at the Hotel where I work," mumbling the name of the chain. Could tell the name didn't mean a thing to her. She didn't react to the dumpster diving comment either, and I felt my heart sink a bit at the implication it was a regular thing. "Felt your step-brother needed some help. He's been warning me off, though. Can't figure out how he's surviving." Wondered how much further to go. She gave me an encouraging tilt of her chin. Guess none of what I'd said so far was a surprise.

"I miss that brother of mine." She paused, considering before adding, "Did you know I was adopted?" My eyes reflected it was new information, and she picked up on it immediately. "Yes, we are an odd collection of family. His momma died last year. Bone cancer. She suffered horribly at the end." She looked down before muttering, "Tore my brother apart. After she passed, he changed, ditching school and disappearing for long stretches. Never the same." She sing-songed the phrase a few times, her eyes distant as she replayed events.

Murmured apologies flew automatically from my mouth, same words my family had uttered in times of crises for more than century, passed down from mother to child. The phrases seemed to soothe her, because she rallied to carefully consider me once more.

"So, having seen him last night, again, why are you sitting here in my parlor?" Her lilting cadence a bit more pronounced in the silence that had befallen us.

"He's working at a club here in town for Arrow," I supplied, watching her carefully for a reaction to the name.

"Waiting tables?" she hazarded.

Shit, this was embarrassing. Did I out Jasper or not? "Entertainment, I think," watching as her eyes narrowed. "Maybe something more. Not sure, didn't see the Club's show." I gulped air, swallowing back the words, _or what came after_, and continued on. "Your brother knew he'd be moved around because I'd found him."

"You found him? Is he in hiding?"

"Don't know, but he acts like he doesn't have a friend in the world." The truth of the words gripped my heart just then. Blinked a few times before adding, "If it helps, told me this Arrow was a business partner of your dad. Do you know the man?" My voice dying away even as I spoke: Leah wasn't mixed up in anything. Neither was Embry. Was that why they'd kicked Jasper out of their apartment?

"Sounds like my brother. Hurts to hear it summed up like that, though. Seedy and bleak."

I felt she was missing the point. "I think he's involved in some kind of mess, not trouble exactly. I want to find him, locate this Arrow-character. If Jasper's staying with him, I'll convince your brother to come home with me, get him to finish school…" my voice petered out as she began to shake her head at my wild daydreams. "Why not?"

"You couldn't convince him last night, right?"

Always too stubborn for my own good, I refused to answer, seeing exactly where she was headed.

"Jasper and I only had the five years as a family before he ran away. I came up here from El Paso for Embry, and Jasper turned up on our doorstep one day. Don't know how he found us. Left just as quickly as he came, before we could do much for him." I nodded in understanding, hoping she'd tell me more. "His daddy died a year before our parents met. _Atsili_'s always been too smart, too independent. Loved to travel, hated being pinned down. He and my dad took trips north, out west to Los Angeles. Church trips, mostly. Dad's a preacher. Funny that."

My face reflecting my confusion, not laughing, she clarified. "_Atsili_ means younger brother. Daddy works with teens living on the streets. Gets them back into school, finds them good jobs. Even has relocated them a time or two. Now it's my Atsili on the streets, dumpster diving, working bars for tips. A drifter. How did it happen?"

Wanted to shout out "but you kicked him out as well" when something stopped me, made me question that fact so readily supplied by the boy. "So you don't know how to contact him? Don't have a cell number for him?"

The look she gave me couldn't have been more sympathetic. Wondered if she'd guessed why I was so persistent. Boy hadn't said anything about being out to his sister, so kept it quiet. Seemed wiser to hold back a few cards.

"I'll call Daddy in the morning; too late now. Never heard of this Ero, but Daddy comes into contact with all kinds. Could be a new mentor for the boys."

Tried to keep the doubt off my face. Probably failed miserably, but she let it go. It was well past one a.m. when I gave her my number at work before pushing off. Last minute, added Carmen and Elzy's, knowing Sunday night was dinner at their place. Face grave, she admonished me not to worry, I'd hear from her again soon. Girl gave a bone-cracking hug, the good kind where you feel smothered in the affection and well-being flowing off another human. The caring just soaks into your pores and soothes away all that hurts. I had a bigger pile of hurts than most, so it helped more than I expected.

Embry bopped my shoulder, "Be seeing you, man." Bopped him back. Expected he was right.

Parked the car less than a block from my front door, dreaming of a rootbeer while taking the stairs two at a time. Dug out a frosted stein I kept on hand and watched the dark amber liquid slide into it, forming a passable head. Slicing off the foamy top first, I sipped on it real slow. A brain freeze would've interfered with my thinking time.

Glass empty and ready for a refill, still hadn't come up with any answers. By two, I was calling it quits with the promise of web design work to do Sunday. No way was I getting another late start when I was eager to get to Carmen's for dinner on the chance Leah had called.

Seriously thought about signing up for a Cricket or other short term mobile phone plan until the boy and I had these events firmly behind us.

Hours later, sitting in my good friend's driveway surrounded by a mix of sedans and pick-ups I didn't recognize, Carmen saw me from the front window, clearly watching for me. She was by my side in a minute, dragging me into a mama-bear grip, her hugs not unlike Leah's from last night. Being both women were so good-natured, decided I had to be right about the step-sister. She was an innocent. Wished I'd been less sleepy, because then I might have asked her more questions about Jasper's step-dad, Paul. Though a preacher seemed a lot less likely candidate for Jasper's unknown abuser. And no easy way you ask a man's daughter you've just met any probing questions, I reflected, grateful I hadn't made that mistake in my weariness.

Besides, what were the odds any preacher who helped young homeless boys would be an abusive step-parent and be able to keep it hidden? I snorted and concentrated on my footing while walking and holding on to mama-bear.

"Girl called you," Carmen cut right to it before we'd even made it inside. She eyed me like I'd grown horns. "She want a date?"

"God no," I burst out, imagining how Embry'd react to that scenario. "She's Jasper's step-sister. I met her last night." Didn't plan on going any further with the explanation, but Carmen knew me too well.

"What else?" Raising three teens herself left me vulnerable all over the place. I could waste time feinting, or just tell her.

"She might have a lead for me on Jasper's whereabouts." I owed it to the woman to come clean. "Saw him Friday night, briefly, but was too hammered to do much about it." The evil eye didn't cover her reaction to my partial confession; _good thing then she didn't know the whole of it!_ "He's moving, couldn't tell me where, but left me information about Leah. Tracked her down." I paused for breath. "Hoping her call means she knows where he is."

"Here's her number, punkin. Get in there and call her back, pronto." She didn't let me go without another hug, though. Watching the game with men I shrewdly guessed owned the pick-ups, Elzy waved a hand in greeting as I scooted past him on the way to Carmen's kitchen. _What the eff would I do without them two? _I thought for the thousandth time.

Kitchen was filled with happy women, holding babies, stirring pots and chattering in both English and Spanish. After more of those good womanly hugs from all around, I wound the handset cord around the separation wall and into the hall for some privacy.

Leah's voice was gentle and encouraging after we exchanged hellos. "Edward, had to call you right away, your story last night was so upsetting. Wish I had better news. Daddy says he hasn't heard from Jasper in forever."

Damn, just my luck. "Did Paul have information on how to find Arrow?"

"He didn't know anyone by that name."

Now that was strictly unexpected. If the Preacher was telling the truth, then Jasper had lied to me. Maybe he was building a whole skein of lies for me, the unsuspecting fly. "You sure? Possibly I'm not pronouncing it right. Your brother and another man both knew him. Supposed to be your dad's business partner?" My voice rose at the end there, wondering if I had those facts straight or if alcohol had befuddled my brain.

"Nope."

"Any chance I could contact your dad direct?" my fingers rapping an impatient melody on the half-closed hall door protecting me from a protesting toddler eager to lay sticky hands on me. _Later_, I mouthed to a woman who smiled her apology for her wayward son's determined assault before she carried him back to the kitchen.

"Sure, when he gets back next week." Leah stopped, waiting until the little dude's frustrated wailing had receded into the background. "He's mentoring another load of church kids and homeless boys he's taking for a road trip into northern Arizona. A spiritual journey. They leave cell phones and all civilization reminders behind. Rent a patch of land from the tribe." Leah paused again, adding uncertainly, "Lots of male bonding activities."

Didn't sound like any Christian church group I'd ever heard of, but then I'd left the uncaring, censorious institutions as far behind me as possible when I'd recognized I wasn't going to be marrying a pretty blond lady and starting a family. Cock-on-cock action was good enough for a certain kind of male bonding, though.

All through a Sunday feast that brought tears to my eyes and rendered numb lips and tongue, I was shoveling in food and ruminating about Arrow. He pressed on my thoughts as if I knew him personally, and yet he meant little to me, just a name. Carl the pig knew him, but I'd have to track Carl either at the Club or through Jacob via Seth. Making contact with Bossy again didn't appeal. I continued to conjure up possible images of a tall, thin man with an evil frown as conversation ebbed and flowed around me, occasionally joining in.

Elzy had a school function to attend after dinner was cleared, so I begged off spending the night. Carmen looked a trace relieved I was cutting out early; I attributed it to her being worn out after all that food prep.

Home again and looking forward to an early night, I shut off the motor and pocketed the car keys. The street lamp had burned out again; the block was pitch dark with shapes set up like an obstacle course between me and home. Fishing a heavy flashlight from the glove compartment, I grabbed the string handles to retrieve leftovers from Carmen, and loped towards the building entrance. Had to cut through the forsythia bushes the landlord never trimmed, so I was almost through the front door, head tucked with the effort of pushing it open when a blow landed on my shoulder, knocking the food bag from my hand. Second one just clipped my ear when acting on instinct, I swung into the first blow with the heavy metal flashlight, catching my assailant just above his eye with a loud thwack!

Fucker half-fell back off the two steps to the ground, cursing, while I shoved through the entryway, nerves tweaking with adrenaline. "Cops. Call the Cops!" I was shouting, the reaction ripping through my body as I leaned into the wall for support, open food containers a mess at my feet.

Door opened in the one unit on the first floor. Trembling, I fell backward into a man's arms when footsteps stopped directly behind me. "Calm down. What's happened?" It was Charlie, an occasionally talkative, dark-haired man, early forties with a distinctive lean musculature. I relaxed after catching the tang of his cologne. God, I needed a friend just then, no matter how tenuous the connection.

"Jumped!" I forced out, once I could draw breath. Hadn't had an asthma attack in years and didn't need one now.

"You hurt? Steal your wallet? Get a look at him?" I shook my head. "Need a doctor?" At my shivering negative, he took pity and turning me gently in his arms, with one hand on my hip guided me over his threshold for a sit down.

"Edward?" he asked as I literally laid out flat on his floor. "I'm pouring whiskey for us." He came back with two short glasses as I was gingerly feeling my clipped ear for any blood. Satisfied no skin was broken, I sat up and drank both, too late realizing one had been meant for him.

"Son? You don't seem okay," concern etching a trench between his brows as he scootched over to capture the empties.

"Shoulder hurts," I stumbled over the words, realizing I'd been hit with something heavy. He helped me remove my jacket to pull away the shirt as I rolled to my belly. Injury began to hurt like a son-of-a-bitch.

"Judging by the mark, a short lead pipe was the weapon used. A slightly different angle, and I'd be calling an ambulance or driving you myself." He shook his head, "You got any enemies, Neighbor?"

None queuing for my dead body, far as I knew.

"Want to file a report? Know some people downtown."

When I didn't respond, he sighed. "Guess not, then."

"You got any more whiskey?" I suggested as a distraction. With Jasper in my sights, I was feeling skittish about being grilled and letting something slip about him or Friday night's events, such as me punching out Carl behind Roy's Club.

"Sit tight."

_Like I was going somewhere._ Must have known I needed the floor to ground me; Charlie brought me a straw and fed the end between my lips so I didn't have to move.

Long draws on the drink, and the alcohol began to kick in. Ice bag he'd filled to ease my shoulder was helping, too. "Want assistance up to your place?" Charlie extended a hand after I'd carefully placed the emptied drink glass on the carpet by my head.

My throaty "Sleep here?" was as much a surprise to me as him. Felt more unsure about my surroundings _after_ I'd asked than before.

"Only if you agree to get up off the floor." I wasn't quite ready to commit to that.

Sighing at my refusal, he crouched back down, grave face inches from mine. Must have had a lot of experience with witnesses, because he got it just right. "Ed, you know I'm a retired detective, huh? Was on the force for more than twenty years, straight out of the Academy." My nod was jerky; rumors were rampant among tenants about the man. "Still a lot of friends; I can make a call about this incident."

"Skip it, I just don't feel like crawling them stairs."

He watched me closely, gears shifting, before easing the pressure on his knees and leaving to unearth blankets and a pillow. "Shower?" he called from a room I took to be the bath.

"Pass if that's okay," I yelled back from my safe position on the floor. Didn't get to stay there, though.

Minutes later, grumbling, I'd kicked off the jeans, handed my shirt to Charlie for folding, and wearing nothing but some boxers, was feeling Jasper-like camped out on Charlie's sleeper sofa. And missing the boy something fierce, being beaten the sort of thing you'd want to share with a partner.

Charlie's warm brown eyes were full of concern, an unexpected comfort in itself. "We'll talk more in the morning," he warned me. "Those Excedrin should kick in any minute, knock you off your pins after that whiskey. Get some rest," he finished, visibly restraining himself from bending down to tousle my hair like I was ten. "I'll call your employer in the morning, tell them you need a few days off." He left me then to clear up the food cartons tumbled open in the front hallway while I wondered if Carmen and Elzy would stop by after work to see how I was doing.

Wasn't long before we said our goodnights, both of us first bemoaning the waste of good food I was hoping Carmen would see fit to replace. Parent-like, man left his bedroom door open a crack for me. When his light snapped off, I was alone with my thoughts.

Darker than my apartment, his living room seemed to magnify the sounds of car engines conveniently spaced to startle me awake just as I kept drifting off.

Pitifully wondered if Jasper would care that I was beaten; there was no way he could ever find out. Spent a few minutes holding onto his license photo I'd printed from the Texas web site, though it was too dark to see it clearly. Wanted so badly to speak to him tonight. Felt my lack of a cell phone most painfully after a night like this one. Debating costs of phones for both of us against my slim budget, I finally fell asleep.

Pull-out sofa was fine, but odd dreams kept me tossing half the night. Clear streams and dark forest glens with placid lakes were threatening, and I didn't know why. Toward the end, stood at the edge of a water fall, misty veils tricking one into misjudging the roaring force of the water pouring over rock faces and dropping from soaring cliffs.

I awoke with a start, bladder full, and damn near peed myself before I could clumsily push up off the couch and bump my way to the head.

Dead tired, aching, only the raging perfume of urine laced with acetaminophen and the heavenly relief of release kept me standing. That and wondering how I'd been so unlucky as to fall victim to violence tonight. Building across the street was damn near a sorority, comely young women in and out all hours of the night. Why'd the guy pick me to jump, a tall, strong, fit male and risk getting beaten in return?

Hoped I remembered to ask Charlie to check the street lights in the morning. Had they burned out or were they broken?

More questions than answers, I slept soundly until morning, when Charlie fed me before helping me navigate the stairs to my apartment. Since it was my upper body that was beaten, legs should have worked fine, but I felt weak and lightheaded. I slept off and on, listened to the radio some, and reread an Agatha Christie my neighbor conveniently left on the table by my couch. Knocking after dusk announced Carmen and Elzy with an easily digestible meal of rice, beans, and chunks of smoked chicken in soft tortillas, and sopapillas for dessert. Carmen updated me on Jane's antics that morning, and I was still sniggering when they left for home, any residual tension from the attack completely erased after hanging with my closest friends.

Charlie checked on me around nine, shoving food in my fridge before settling a clear container of murky liquid in front of me. "Whiskey," he announced happily, lifting two crystal glasses from the brown bag at his feet. "You enjoyed it so much last night, thought we'd have a replay." I felt the heat rushing up my neck, recalling how I'd downed both our drinks, but he only smiled at my discomfort. "Not often you get a beating with a lead pipe. Forget about it." We clinked glasses, me promising to avoid another mugging anytime soon.

The next day was a repeat of Monday, so I felt plenty rested when Charlie came up the stairs with two covered plates of smothered burgers and homemade fries. Ex-cop filled me in he'd caught my friends in the hallway as they were leaving and promised he'd feed me dinner. He stayed to keep me company, playing several hands of gin rummy, us arguing over the rules like a couple of ancient geezers. Round about eleven, before he took his leave, told him I planned on going into work in the morning, icing the shoulder during breaks and punching out early if I couldn't keep up. He wished me well and promised to cook dinner tomorrow for us.

I'd turned down my bed, looking forward to sleeping on a decent mattress, certain a pillow arrangement would keep me safely on my good side and off the shoulder. Glass of water in hand, other arm hanging limp and still useless, the quiet rap on the apartment door had me stumbling into the living room in sleep pants and an old Strokes t-shirt to let Charlie back in. Couldn't think what he'd forgotten, but swinging the door wide, I froze, convinced I was dreaming. There stood Jasper, not moving, his hands clasping either side of the door frame as if he'd been listening at the door.

"Shit, Ed, never figured you for a revivalist garage-band fan," he finally whispered after what seemed like hours, breaking the spell of silence. "Snow Patrol, maybe," he finished, clearly uncertain just where he stood with me. _Foolish boy._

"Get in here," I growled loudly, wishing both arms worked reasonably well as I ached to draw him up against my chest, hip to hip, thigh greeting thigh. I coveted the comfort from our touching as much as he did.

"You hurt?" he sought confirmation from me after stepping close enough to run his hands over my sides and catching the flinch. "What happened? Somebody land a punch on Edward Holyfield here?" he teased, but his eyes were worried.

"Some," I breathed out before drawing in a big lungful of _Jasper. _His natural scent of boy-man was overlaid by the freshness of the night air clinging to his hair and a trace of cigarette smoke in his clothing. Smell kicked in a reflexive craving I purposed ignored. "Mugger caught me on the shoulder with a lead pipe Sunday night at the door to the building. Fought back and kept my wallet. Got a bruise the size of St. Louis to prove it. But everything's better now, now you're here. Jesus, are you really here?" He felt real enough. Staring so fixedly into his guileless blue eyes, I saw the very moment he decided, _kiss you_, so I was ready for him as his mouth crashed into mine. This kiss was unlike any that came before, his desire for me a fierce and demanding thing not to be denied. In it, I tasted the man he'd eventually become, a man I'd never again allow to waltz away from me.

"Here," he murmured contentedly when I gave him the chance to speak. "Missed you, Eddie." That was good enough for me, good enough for now.

"Stay the night," I muttered against his parted lips, competing waves of desire and exhaustion diminishing my resolve to pry further explanations from him tonight. "I need my beauty sleep, and it's beyond late. Crawl in with me, please? Your toothbrush's still on the hook where you left it." I wasn't above pricking his conscience some more, adding, "I might want help getting up in the night," delivered with just the right mix of embarrassment and pleading.

He hesitated for a long minute, worrying me I'd pushed too soon, too fast. "I'll stay, but understand there's things you need to know about me, Ed. You and me are both worn out; let's not start something here we can't finish. Plenty of time for talking later," easing a fear I had this was only a temporary respite from his usual surliness. When he knew I agreed, he lightened the mood, asking, "Where're you hiding your pajamas, Eddie? Think I'd like to borrow a pair."

Tamping down my disappointment we wouldn't be sleeping skin-to-skin, I let slip I'd met his step-sister and Embry. He shook his head, not wanting to begin a long-overdue conversation neither of us felt up to having, so I let it drop.

While he changed, I filled a second glass with water for him, arranging it beside mine on the night stand. In no time at all, found us in a place I'd worried was lost to me forever after Friday night's cab right home alone. Pillows supporting my back, I was curled around his pajama-clad folded frame, legs bent in the shape of a pair of chevrons. We'd even enjoyed some careful kissing that didn't jostle my shoulder too badly. The few winces he felt against his mouth had him putting a quick stop to it, though. "Morning for that, Ed. Sleep now," he admonished me faintly, ass molded to my groin as he drowned the room in darkness with a flick of his wrist.

Jasper's even breathing so close beside me was just the lullaby I'd been lacking. I matched my breaths to his, trying to place the unfamiliar emotion pushing against my ribs, demanding attention.

_Oh, yeah._

Call it_ happy._

-0000-

A/N: _Thank you very much for all your comments, alerts, and favorites. Time for Jasper to tell his story._


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